Flesh & Bone (Rot & Ruin, #3)(42)

Carter pointed the shotgun at Andrew’s face. “Sure, and because we were friends I’ll give you a chance, Andrew. Drop the cutter and get your ass into the wind and we’ll call it quits here.”

The reaper gave a sad shake of his head. “I’ll bet you don’t have any shells left. Otherwise you’d have given me the gift of darkness.”

Carter snugged the stock of the shotgun into his shoulder. “Want to find out?”

“Yes,” replied the reaper earnestly. “I want to die. How can you still not get that? So either pull the trigger or put the gun down and join us.”

“I’m taking my family away from here. You won’t have to worry about us ever again.”

“Away where?”

“Someplace where you can’t touch us. Somewhere safe.”

“Why not give it a name? Or are you afraid to say the name ‘Sanctuary’ out loud?”

Even from where he was hiding, Chong could hear Carter’s shocked intake of breath.

“C’mon, man, did you really think we don’t know you’re looking for Sanctuary? We know that Sister Margaret is with you. Some of the scouts saw her. There’s only one place she’d take you to try and keep you from us.”

“No, you’re wrong, we’re heading south. Besides . . . there’s no such place as Sanctuary,” said Carter, but even to Chong his voice lacked conviction.

Brother Andrew snorted. “How can a smart guy like you trust someone like Sister Margaret? She betrayed her own mother, her own people. What makes you think she won’t betray you?”

“We trust her. Riot’s protected us this far.”

Riot, thought Chong. She’s connected to the reapers?

“Protected you?” Andrew laughed. “That’s what you think she’s doing? Tell me something, Carter, has she actually told you about Sanctuary? About what it really is? Or did she just recycle that old garbage about it being—oh, how’s it go?—‘a place for the weary to rest’?”

Carter said nothing.

“Well, let me tell you something—Sister Margaret is nuts. I mean really out of her mind.” Andrew shook his head. “I know about Sanctuary. I know what goes on there, Carter, and believe me when I tell you that the darkness I’m offering you is a mercy. I’m giving you a chance to go out as a free man rather than spend the rest of your life in Sanctuary as a slave.”

“You don’t even know what you’re talking about.”

“The offer stands,” said Andrew, “but the clock’s ticking on my patience.”

Carter studied him, and Chong could see doubt in the man’s face, but there was anger, too. Much more of that.

“Go to hell,” said Carter.

Brother Andrew sighed. “So be it,” he said. “Such is the mercy of Thanatos that even with blasphemy on your lips the darkness welcomes you.”

There was a sudden flash of silver from the woods, and Carter cried out and staggered forward. His finger jerked the trigger of the shotgun, and the hollow click told the story the reaper had already guessed. The weapon fell from Carter’s hands as he thumped down hard on his knees.

That was when Chong saw what had struck the man.

An arrow.

It had flown out of the woods behind where Chong crouched and buried itself between Carter’s shoulders.

“No . . . ,” Carter gasped.

But the answer was a dreadful “yes” as a second arrow punched into Carter’s back not a finger’s breadth from the first.

The last word Carter managed to say was, “Eve.”

Then he fell forward.

Despite everything Tom had taught him, Chong cried, “No!”

The reaper with the scythe turned his head sharply toward the spot where Chong crouched.

And smiled.





32

BENNY AND NIX REACTED IN THE SAME MOMENT: SHE PULLED HER pistol and Benny drew his sword. The reaper took a small step toward them. He did not appear to be armed, but Benny was taking no chances.

“Stay back, mister,” warned Benny.

The man stopped and studied them with cold, penetrating eyes. “Nyx,” he said.

Nix started. “What? How do you know my name?”

“Are you her?” asked the man. The smallest of smiles painted his face.

“Um . . .”

“Have you come to share with us?” asked the reaper. “Have you come to help your children share the darkness with the heretics?”

“Uhhh . . . ,” Benny said, “what?”

“Have you given your gift to many?”

“What . . . gift?” asked Benny, though he was pretty sure he did not want an answer to the question.

The man frowned. “The gift of darkness. What other gift is there?”

“Benny . . . ,” Nix warned. “Let’s get out of here.”

The man took another step toward them. He was still well out of attack range, but Benny kept his sword in a solid guard, ready to defend—or attack. “What beautiful children you are,” said the man in a voice that was as soft as sand slithering through an hourglass. It made Benny’s skin crawl. “You come bravely into the woods, bearing weapons from the old world, spreading the gift of darkness with the heretics.”