by Rhys Ford
The Vice jiggled the knob, hearing it rattle in his hand. His temptation to just walk in was strong, but Lust wanted to draw this moment out, savor something instead of consuming it whole. If he played the boy’s emotions right, Lust could have the artist eating out of his hand, willing to do anything to satisfy him. “I just want for us.”
“You should have been Envy.” His brother shook off Lust’s jealousy with a wave of his fat hand. “Why aren’t you satisfied with what we have? You’d never get any peace, always bobbing about to deal with bigger things.”
“Don’t even talk to me about Peace.” The Vice stroked at the door separating him from the artist. “What a weak piece of shit.”
“Everyone has their use, even Peace,” Gluttony reminded him. “You don’t have any idea what this kid can be used for, do you?”
“No, not yet.” A patter echoed under Lust’s fingertips, drumming a pattern along the doorjamb. “But I have to get ahold of him before any of the others do. Someone wants him bad. Bad enough to change the world.”
“He probably did it to himself. A Ouija board and chicken blood. That’s what we’ll find inside.” Gluttony worried at his lip, pulling at it with his teeth. “Someone’s going to end up paying for that. Probably him.”
“No, he’s not,” the Vice disagreed. “He’s human. Free will, remember? Every damned thing they do is their choice. Chances are someone’s been sent to stop him from being, and something wrong happened.”
“That kid inside isn’t worth anything more than any of the other specks of meat on this Earth.” Gluttony edged past Lust, peering through the crack in the curtains. “He doesn’t look like much. Pretty but just another mortal.”
“Look around you, brother. There’s a wraith carcass at our feet. Battles are going to be fought over this one. We’d be stupid not to take advantage of that.” Lust looked up at the sky again, seeing the cloud breaking apart and reforming into a larger stormy horror. “If we don’t move, we’re going to be caught in the middle of a war that neither one of us can win.”
“Better hurry, then,” Gluttony fretted. He was ill suited for ambition, preferring a quiet life spent among mortals who knew how to indulge. Lust’s need for recognition from the others perplexed him, something Gluttony secretly felt would be his brother’s downfall.
“Want to keep an eye out for our peeping Tom across the courtyard? If he comes in after the boy, we’ll have to do something about him.” Lust’s knuckles dragged along the rough surface of the stucco, barking the skin. The pain felt good, a familiar sour bite on his tongue. Pressing his moist mouth on the dirty windowpane, Lust breathed, a smoky mist clouding the glass. “Open the door, pretty boy. Open the door for me.”
Kismet’s face caught the light as he turned, hearing the call whispering under the door. Fingers trailing over the fold of his elbow, he stumbled back from the half-imagined dream, acrylics muddied from colors run together. Lust stepped in, slithering away from the noise of the street, sliding his hand around the door’s edge and pulling it shut. There was a snick of the bolt mechanism hitting the strike plate, hanging before sliding into the hole gouged out by a screwdriver.
“Someone’s come knocking, Kiz.” Chase’s silvery voice worked into the curve of Kismet’s eardrum, rattling around with a steel ring pitch. The young artist winced, screwing down his teeth over his bottom lip until he could taste the sharpness of his own blood.
“Shut up. God, can’t you just shut the fuck up?” Kismet’s fingernails scraped at his own cheeks. Savagely opening up his flesh, Kismet tried to bury his brother’s voice in pain, shoving Chase’s digging whispers behind the sting.
“You want me to shut up? Like that night?” Chase drew closer, his form wavering and nearly lost in the waves of agony burning through Kismet. “I shut up then, Kizzie. And you didn’t even wake up to watch me die.”
“That wasn’t my fault.” Kismet stepped away from the canvas he’d painted, catching his foot on a lump in the carpet. “God, I was a kid. We both were kids. You’re not even real. Fuck, why the hell am I talking to myself?”
When the door cracked open, he turned, seeing the two men in the doorway. His blood screamed as it sucked the last few grains of heroin from its reserves, burning through the drugged peace, leaving nothing behind.
Lust stood for a moment, letting his essence enrapture the young man, reaching out with trembling fingertips. Sliding his hand into Kismet’s shaggy mane, he leaned in close, catching the last hot breath from the young man’s mouth, drawing it into his own. The Vice reveled in Kismet’s chemical craving, the sharp sourness of his blood run thin with tarry powders. The boy no longer felt human. He’d be forever caught behind the Veil. That excited Lust to no end.
The floor lay scattered with discarded clothes and several pizza boxes, white cardboard hardened from dried moisture. A locker’s lid held evidence of Kismet’s addiction, the burned bottom of a cut-off aluminum can scorched from use, its crease smoky from heated liquids. Lust grabbed the boy’s arm, then turned Kismet around as Gluttony came through the door, his eye still fixed on the mortal watching through the curtains across the way.
“Who are you?” Kismet shook off Lust’s hands, distancing himself from the Vice.
“Baby, you’ve known me all of your life.” The Vice slid his arms around the young man’s waist, fitting his body against the slender curve of Kismet’s hips. “I’m pretty sure if I were a god, you’d be one of my priests.”
“Get out.” There was something about the man that was confusing. His thoughts were muddied, even more so than with the heroin lingering in his system.
Lust wrapped his influence around the young man, tilting the world onto its side. “You don’t want me to leave, baby.”
“What the hell is this?” The large black man skidded, brought short by the paintings leaning haphazardly against the far wall. “Lust, what have you pulled us into?”
Screaming mouths emerged from bloody skies, wings feathered with slender scales arcing over crumbled bodies, arms wrapped tight around broken heads. Skulls floated free of undefined limbs, soaked through with tears, sorrow dripping from fingers bent back in pain. Wraiths howled in glee, reaching out to the spectator just behind the painter. The entire world of the Veiled lay thick on canvas, captured in the fluid horror of a young man’s madness, held at bay just outside of his control.
“He’s just insane,” Gluttony whispered, voice muted at the collection of his world in simple strong strokes. “He’s just like those other humans.”
“No, he’s not,” Lust insisted. “He’s immortal but without a calling. Feel him. How fucking cool is that?”
“You’re the one that’s insane, Lust. Look at this stuff. He’s gone over the edge. There’s nothing human left in him. The shadows have eaten it all,” Gluttony said, stepping farther into the room.
He approached Kismet’s newest creation. Long sheaves of wheat blotted harsh with boiled pinks and browns, dots of cornflower fighting against the strong hues of a diseased mauve. The hint of gold circles surrounded the dots, a floating sheen below clouds of squirming worms dripping from a rotted sky. “I know that face. I’ve seen that face before.”
“You know, I can hear you.” Kismet wove, nearly tumbling off his feet. “I’m right here, bastards. I’m just a little stoned.”
“Baby, I need you to be quiet.” Lust stroked the young man’s face, wrapping his influence around Kismet’s soul. “I need to think.”
Kismet resisted, dragging his feet on the floor. The heroin he injected numbed his body, but his mind was racing. Kismet felt Lust’s manipulations, knew the man was doing something to him but didn’t have the strength to fight it off. Erotic tendrils set his blood on fire, and Kismet purred under Lust’s wandering hands. As the Vice’s influence grew, it reached deep inside of the young man, breaking him down.
“Like giving candy to a baby.” Lust ran his lips over Kismet’s mouth, tasting the other man’s sweet breath. “Gods, you are s
o one of mine.”
“I think it’s supposed to be the new Pestilence.”
Lust gave a quick glance at the painting, shoving at Kismet’s back, trying to get the young man out of the door. “He must have seen them, the Horsemen. That’s probably who tore apart that wraith outside.”
“Well, that’s it, then. Time to go. I’m not facing one of the Four. And I sure as hell am not going to stick around to see if those shadows are coming after him.” Gluttony pulled on his brother’s shirt, ignoring the young man. “Let’s find a calling far from here and just get there.”
“He can’t follow us.” Lust’s green eyes gleamed. “Feel around inside of him. He’s one of us but not one of us.”
“Then forget him. He’s the last thing you need on you right now.” The Vice gripped his brother’s shirt, hauling Lust close. “I’m not going to cross the Horsemen just because you want something you shouldn’t have.”
“We’ll make a run for it.” Lust shook Gluttony off. “We can hide among mortals until I can get us someplace safe.”
“We really don’t have a place to hide,” Kismet rasped, husky voice velvet and dark. Fervor gleamed in his eye, the altered heroin working through his blood. The addiction fed, he nearly collapsed in Lust’s arms, his limbs refusing to cooperate. “Can’t stand well. And the shadows keep coming at me. They shouldn’t. I’m stoned. They should leave me alone.”
“Yes, I’m going with crazy.” Gluttony threw open the door, reaching out with his mind for a human’s call, looking for something far away from the motel’s cramped courtyard. “I’ll see you later, brother. Well, either you or whoever takes your place when the Four are done with you.”
“Fucking bastard. Come back here!” Lust swore, grabbing at empty space when Gluttony rushed on to the call he found, his round body easing into the Veil’s folds, disappearing to someplace else. “Who helped you when you fell into that mess with the Virtues? I’ll keep the boy hidden.”
“I really need to stay. I have my stuff here.” Kismet shook his head, steadying himself on Lust’s shoulders. “Someone will take my stuff.”
“We are not hidden here, pretty.” Lust curled up close into Kismet’s body, feeling down the length of his thighs. The Vice grinned broadly at the thickening between his fingers, mouth hovering near Kismet’s parted lips. “I’ll just keep you drowned in me. That’ll hide you from any of others. Chances are you’re not going to call one of the Horsemen.”
Kismet reached out, his hand jostling the lid of his footlocker. “Can’t leave it.”
“I can get you more of that too.” Lust slid his arm around Kismet’s waist, shoving him toward the open door. His options were limited in San Diego, tied mostly to nighttime activities that had yet to start. With the falling sun, his power grew as people’s desires increased. “Come on. I’ve got someplace we can go and get you a really nice fix.”
The Vice heard sounds coming from the courtyard, a screeching of tires and slamming of doors, as well as the grating accented voice of Famine shouting at another of the Horsemen. Peering out through the crack of the door, Lust craned his neck to see which of the Four were outside, holding his breath in hopes that it would be one of the younger ones. He didn’t want to face Death. Lust had no desire to find out if Death could kill him just by wanting him dead.
Cupping Kismet’s face, Lust lay into the other’s mouth, savoring the edges of sour hanging at the corners of the boy’s lips. Gluttony was right. There were taints of insanity in the boy’s soul, a childlike specter drawn into him and anchored by guilt. The boy’s lust-ridden eyes darkened, his pupils gulping at the color of his eyes, leeching the last shreds of Kismet’s will. Drowning in the seductive pull of Lust’s influence, Kismet broke away, dazed with the struggle to fill his lungs with cool air.
“Come on, pretty.” Lust yanked on Kismet’s arm, dragging the young man out onto the walkway. “We can probably cut around to the back and out the alleyway before anyone notices us. With Luck, we’ll be gone soon, and then I’ll find out exactly how much you’re worth.”
CHAPTER TEN
DEATH BEING near was comforting, Ari decided. In the beginning, when they first fought wraiths, Ari lost all sense of what was around him, thrilled at the taste of blood in his mouth. Neither of them had any defensive skills, and when the battle ended, Ari discovered he’d caused most of Death’s injuries.
Over time, they learned to fight alongside the other, more out of survival at first, then habit, until it became second nature. Ari’s side felt empty without Death there, aching in the dark of the night when his bed lay cold. During a fight, Ari could touch freely. Once weapons were forged, they established where they were standing with the touch of their blades. It became a sound Ari loved to hear.
“What’s taking it so long?” Ari chafed with the waiting, looking around him with a practiced, assessing eye.
Death grinned beside him, a slanting flirtation marred by the run of silver scarring over his pretty face. The child inside of Ari amused Death, a feral innocence simplified in Ari’s glee.
Stretching his arm out, Ari yanked at the Veil, trying to pull it closer as a woman stared at him and Death, her chin dropped nearly to her chest. Ari risked taking his eyes off the bird, noticing that their presence was drawing more than a little attention from the humans around them. The security guard they’d spotted earlier spoke urgently into his radio, a squawking rattle in his voice as he called for assistance.
“Shit. We’re visible. Damned human can see us.” Ari felt a lurch in his belly when the Veil broke around him. Desperate to fold it back, Ari reached out with his mind, finding nothing to hold on to. “Fuck, Death. We’re in trouble here.”
Death pushed at the Veil, trying to shove it closed as it tore, its edges unraveling from around Ari and then pulling free of them both. Exerting his will, Death reached deep into the well of power, his ability to manipulate the shadows greater than Ari’s, but the Veil buckled and slipped away from Death’s grasp.
“Damn it, it’s not closing.” Death tried again, the shadowy curtain sliding away from their bodies.
A woman watched them as she passed, her grocery cart laden with bags. Creasing her forehead, she hurried past, giving the armed men a wide berth.
“Try a bit harder.” The blond swallowed the bile burning his throat, the fluctuations making his stomach turn.
“I can’t close it, Ari.” Death bit back his anger, feeling naked stripped clean of the shadows. “The Veil’s trying to close, but it’s too thin. It keeps breaking apart.”
The wraith circled again, trying to reach its prey below. Death stared up at the sky, seeing the stark ice blue without the filmy taint of the Veil. Ari followed Death’s gaze, taking in the expanse of brilliant cerulean with a shrug.
“Death, we’ve got other things to do besides stare up at the sky.” Ari nudged him. “Yeah, it’s a pretty blue, but it’s just blue.”
“Stop for a second and pay attention for a change.” Death pushed at Ari’s hand, the elder Horseman scanning the sweeping shadow overhead. “It’s heading away from us. We should be pulling it in just by being here.”
“Shit, okay I see it. What the hell is going on?” Ari asked. The bird hovered, searching for something on the ground. The immortal was spoiling for a fight. The temper he’d been carrying over the past few days needed to be worked out of his system. The wraith would be a fine distraction from his want for Death.
“I don’t think it’s interested in us,” Death murmured, pointing up at the trail of a talon as it struck downward, leaving a smear of charcoal along the rim of the Veil’s tear. “It’s heading away.”
“Son of a bitch.” Ari gnashed his teeth. “It’s probably got the boy’s scent.”
“How far is that motel? Do you remember?” Death asked. A small crowd was gathering at the end of the sidewalk, intrigued by the two men wielding weapons in the middle of a San Diego strip mall. The cluster of mortals made him uneasy, their too short lives sh
ining out of their curious eyes. “If we’re closer to the boy, it might get confused by our presence. We could mask him.”
“It’s not far, maybe a block away, but I think Mal took his keys with him. The place is pretty easy to find. It’s got a bright blue roof.” Ari jerked his chin toward the east, pointing out an alleyway past the grocery store. “We can just cut through the crowd there. Probably make it on foot.”
“No killing the humans. Come on, then,” Death said, breaking into a sprint toward the alley.
Ari sighed, running after his friend, avoiding the people gathering at the grocery store entrance.
“Gods, we need to work on your English,” Ari muttered, easing his shoulders through a gap in a chain-link fence, Death a few feet ahead of him. “And if that was a joke, then we also have to work on your sense of humor.”
Sirens sounded off in the distance, a complication neither of the Horsemen wanted to deal with. The air shuddered as the mortal world shook around them. The outlying shadows buckled, trying to seal its ends together. Death debated their options. Heading into the Veil would draw the wraith toward Kismet, but standing out in the open would lead to trouble. Decision made, he pulled Ari toward the break in the buildings.
The wail grew louder, and Death’s elbow into his ribs urged Ari to break out of a steady run toward the motel. A lingering shadow clotted the alley entrance, promising a thicker cover of shadows just beyond the side street. The Horsemen sprinted, disappearing into the ebbing curtain.
“We must have made someone nervous.” Ari watched the shadowy creature dive down, circling tighter around the area. “Guess cops don’t like people showing up at grocery stores with weapons.”
Ari grunted when the Veil swallowed them, the shadows bursting into his chest, welling into his blood. Standing exposed in the middle of the sidewalk had been soul wrenching, an experience he never wanted to have again. Death pulled the curtain close, corralling it until the shadowy camouflage hid them from sight. Echoes of their bodies cast long, dark shapes against the nearby walls, the cracked Veil unable to fully envelop them.
