Assassin: Fall of the Golden Valefar

At Eric’s command, the swirling white mist stopped and thickened into a cloud. It drifted to Thomas, surrounding him in his chair. There was no way for the man to move, the airless mist was like lead. Its viscous vapors deprived his lungs of oxygen, as they settled over him.



Eric leaned back in his chair, fingers steepeled as he watched the man in front of him die. Every ounce of pain, every moment of agony was deserved—unlike some of Eric’s past actions—so he made Thomas’ demise last as long as possible, reveling in it. As he sat watching, Eric couldn’t help but notice that the old man’s pain was different. It was more an old burned piece of meat than an elegant meal. It still satisfied Eric’s hunger, but in a less palatable way.



Without meaning to, it made Eric think of Natalia. He pressed his fingers together harder, knuckles turning white. He didn’t understand. What she did to him was so different. Her fear was almost—it almost made him crave more. When Eric realized what he was thinking he crushed the thoughts instantly.



Eric watched every deplorable second of the end of Thomas’ life, smiling while he did it. As the mist lingered on the old man’s skin, it began to burn. The scent of charred flesh filled the air, but no one came. No one could save the Martis now. Eric tapped his fingers together—waiting, watching—his golden eyes never leaving Thomas’. Every ounce of agony that the man felt was strewn across his face, until Eric finally allowed him to collapse.



With a flick of his hand, Eric banished the mist. Thomas moaned from the floor, looking up at Eric who was standing over him. His old gray eyes were wide, filled with terror as he rasped, “You’re a demon. A monster.” Hair stuck to the side of his face, dripping with sweat.



Extracting his brimstone from the pocket of his jeans, Eric turned it to a black dagger in his hand. It was a demon’s weapon, straight from the Underworld. Raising the weapon above his shoulder, Eric gripped it tight. The jagged edge glinted softly in the light. Thomas’ wide grey eyes fixated on the weapon. Without another word, Eric slammed the dagger into Thomas’ heart, cracking it through his bones as he swung. Thomas screamed. It was the kind of scream that soothed Eric. Raw terror filled the air, soothing Eric’s pain. For an instant it vanished like chalk washed off the sidewalk. The traces of it were still there, but the intensity was gone. It was the kind of scream that Natalia should have given. He couldn’t put the thought aside. Assassinating Thomas made him realize there was something about that girl. She wasn’t normal, but it was beyond that.



The scream died as the tip of the blade pierced Thomas’ heart. Brimstone flooded his system and beat by beat, the man was destroyed from the inside out. Eric watched his body as it contorted with pain, not offering any comfort. Thomas’ eyes grew wide, terror coursing through him faster than the brimstone.



The massive hole in Eric’s chest, the place where the darkness reigned, felt solid for a moment. Sated. It was no longer threatening to crush him from within. The irony wasn’t lost on Eric. He knew that he only felt good when he was doing horrible things. That worried him. How far would he go to feel this way? Was it something he could maintain forever? He was strong enough, powerful enough to sustain death after death. There was only a tiny part of him that didn’t want it, and it was that tiny part that made his kills methodical. There was a reason, a plan behind all the blood. In the end, it would all work out. It had to.



Silence filled the room and with it the pain that crushed his chest began to build again. The old man’s eyes rolled back in his head, dead. Staring at him for a moment, Eric was sickened to realize that things ended like this. Both the people who saved him died horrifically at his hand. Eric brought death with him everywhere he went. It was just the way things were and he’d accepted it. Yanking the blade from the man’s corpse, Eric withdrew it and turned it back to a stone, placing it carefully in his pocket. With his other hand, he extracted the vial.



Eric leaned close to the old man’s face, remembering his last words, accusing Eric of being a monster. Tipping a drop from the vial he whispered, “Likewise.”



CHAPTER TWENTY



Eric didn’t go looking for Natalia later that night. He kept to himself, trying to decide what to do with the girl. She was dead if she had any feelings for him. He was having difficulty resisting her pull. It was like she was a black hole and there was no escape. Thoughts of Natalia flooded his mind when they shouldn’t. It was like he was losing control and he didn’t like it. It put her at risk. And not only that, it could derail the rest of his plans. The consequences of that were far worse. Eric knew the end of his life was near. Things were changing too fast. The curse was morphing, changing him more rapidly than ever before. Horrible things were coming and there was only one way to stop him. His mind was set, but Natalia. That was the problem… Natalia.



The day after he killed Thomas passed. Eric felt no remorse. There was tension in the air during daylight hours that was normally absent. The people whispered, wondering what could kill such a wealthy man. They thought that if he failed to escape the monster, then so would they. Those words haunted him, like a dark sign of things to come.



It was night by the time he headed for the bar. His thoughts drifted to Natalia as he walked through the abandoned streets. Inky black shadows, due to the lack of moonlight, made this section of the city seem more nefarious than usual. When he closed his eyes he saw her. It was like he could still sense her soft skin brushing against his lips. There was something about her. Eric craved her like nothing he’d ever known. It was an abnormality for him.



Eric rolled the little vial between his fingers. It was nearly empty. Gazing at it in his hand, he watched the clear contents swish back and forth, before pocketing the potent liquid again. Normal people wouldn’t risk putting something like that so close to their skin. One drop of that clear liquid killed, leaving only a golden residue in its wake—but Eric had already tried a drop or two on his own flesh. The only thing it did was hiss and evaporate. Eric looked down at his hand. A spot on his wrist, a little circle of gold, marked where he’d dripped the vial on his arm. Eric rubbed his wrist, trying to erase the mark, but it wouldn’t budge. There were two of them—twin golden circles that were side by side—like a tattoo.



Eric sat at a counter in the bar, sipping a liquid that did little to ease his pain. If he downed the whole bottle, it might burn his throat for half a second before the effects wore off. The curse decimated Eric, alienating him from everyone, keeping him from feeling anything good without destroying someone else. In the short time he’d spoken to Lorren, the other angel who used the Stone, he found some comfort. Being trapped in Hell seemed like a much better cost than what was thrust upon Eric. But, he shouldn’t complain. Ivy’s curse was much worse, and she seemed to adapt. If she had everything to do over again, he knew she would make the same choice—she’d choose the curse and destroy her own life to save everyone else’s.



At one point Eric had been the same way, but now, after centuries upon centuries of unending pain... He shook his head, slamming his glass on the bar. He’d become too dark and twisted. The reasons for his assassinations weren’t to end his misery, they were to illicit a response to stop him before it was too late. Too late for everyone. He could feel it inside of him and knew it had to be stopped.



Eric had ignored Ivy’s requests to come to her in the Underworld. He couldn’t admit it to her; he couldn’t tell her how the darkness was consuming him, making him a million times worse than when he last saw her. It would be too hard, too horrible.



Before he turned, he felt eyes on his back. Natalia. Her voice was soft, uncertain. “Where’ve you been, friend?” She glided next to him, long hair flowing down her back, a soft sway to her hips, and slid up onto the stool next to him.



Natalia went looking for Eric. He left her the other night, and it’d been over a day since they talked—since they kissed. She didn’t want to act like a head-case, but she felt so different with Eric. Instead of leaving her empty, she felt—almost happy. And that was just a kiss. She wondered what more would do, but was too worried to find out. What did it mean? Nothing ever made her feel that way, and she’d been alive long enough to know. Those emotions were tossed away in her childhood, centuries ago. It was long before she realized what she was.



When he didn’t speak, she asked, “I unnerve you, don’t I?” If he didn’t stop her last night, she didn’t know what would have happened. After that, Eric darted, and she came back to her senses and tore apart the house looking for his book, but it was gone. There was no trace of it. She wouldn’t kill him without it. She didn’t want to believe what she already knew—the immortal that possessed the book was guilty. Eric was immortal, but he wasn’t an angel. She still thought there was a chance for him. That he wasn’t the person she was looking for.



Her teeth caught her bottom lip, tugging on it slightly. Eric glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. Her long legs were crossed at the knee. She leaned forward, toward him, her head tipped sideways with her dark hair spilling over her shoulders. “That’s why you didn’t come back last night. It was me, wasn’t it?” She swallowed hard. Eric could hear it. Her pulse raced as her heart thumped loudly in her chest. Slowly, Eric turned to look at her. “You’re spooked because I liked it, right?” she asked.



When Eric tried to hurt her, Natalia acted like she wanted it, because she did. There was a part of her brain that was drawn to him, to his need to inflict pain. She understood him better than he knew. They were two sides of the same coin. She just couldn’t tell him.



Eric’s eyes slid over her face, lingering on her perfectly smooth pale pink lips, before answering, “Things can’t be like that with us. That was a scratch compared to what I normally do, and I don’t want you dead.” His voice was sincere, soft.



“But, Eric, I—”



“No, Natalia. This can’t be. Why can’t you see that?” There was a plea in his voice, like he’d come undone if she said the wrong thing.



Natalia’s gaze lingered on his face. He didn’t understand what she was. Part of her wanted to tell him, to see what he’d do. That was the crazy part. She swallowed hard, forcing back the surge of insanity. “I see that you’re worried about me, but Eric—you can’t hurt me.” She reached for his hand, sliding her palm over his. His skin was smooth and warm. Eric sat perfectly still, fighting the instinct to rip his hand away and yell at her. The girl had no sense of self-preservation.



“Eric,” she spoke his name like a caress that was far too intimate to be spoken at a bar. It was the whispered hush that lovers use when no one else is around. Eric felt heat rising within him, his skin growing hotter.



Jerking his hand away, Eric realized his heart was racing. She completely ensnared him. He wanted her. He wanted to taste her, feel her, and know her in way that made his breath catch. But it couldn’t be. The best thing to do was to stay away from her.