Chapter 54: His Twisted Smile

Raziel couldn’t take his eyes off the severed head.

His thirty-seven-year-old brain, that of a veteran hardened by a thousand battles, was already processing the info at a thousand miles per hour, calculating variables and threats, but his fifteen-year-old body just wanted to vomit.

Shit! Shit, shit, shit!

The blond boy crouched next to the corpse with a calmness that froze the blood, and without any disgust, he wiped his fingers on the dead guy’s tunic.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost, buddy,” the boy said, while getting up and dusting off his clothes.

“Or well, a fresh corpse, which is almost the same thing in this case.”

Raziel took a step back, because his legs were trembling, and his back hit a shelf full of old books.

“Who are you?” he croaked, although his voice sounded pathetic and scratchy, like he had swallowed sandpaper.

“That magic… those threads…”

The boy put a finger to his lips, and his gray eyes shone with a malicious amusement that didn’t fit the scene at all.

“Details, details. The important thing is that you’re still breathing, right?”

BAM!

The double doors of the archive flew open, hitting the wall with tremendous violence. The sound of heavy boots and metal armor resonated in the silent room, breaking the tension.

“INQUISITION! NOBODY MOVE!”

They were late. Like always. The ’heroes’ of the story always show up when the mess has already been cleaned up.

In a blink, the blond changed completely.

His relaxed and predatory posture disappeared, and suddenly, he looked like a scared lamb.

He started trembling, his hands shook and his eyes filled with fake tears that were a work of art.

He leaned towards Raziel, and his voice dropped to a whisper that only the two of them could hear, a frozen hiss that contradicted his acting.

“Listen to me well. I didn’t use threads. The killer slipped on his own clumsiness and fell on his dagger. Understood?”

His smile disappeared for a split second, revealing the monster underneath.

“If you open your mouth about what you saw, I swear the next head rolling on this floor will be yours.”

Raziel swallowed saliva, feeling the cold of the threat run down his back.

“Here! By the Goddess, help us!” the blond shouted, turning towards the Inquisitors with a face of total panic.

“This man tried to kill us! It was horrible!”

The Inquisitors, led by a man Raziel vaguely recognized as Captain Thorne, entered with drawn swords and surrounded the scene.

“Secure the perimeter!” barked Thorne, looking at the decapitated body with disgust.

“What the hell happened here?”

The blond pointed at the corpse, trembling like a leaf.

“He… he attacked my partner. There was a struggle and… and I think the Goddess intervened, because he cut himself. It was a miracle.”

Raziel looked at the boy, then at Thorne, and finally at the corpse.

’A miracle, my ass,’ he thought with a cynicism that burned inside him.

Raziel nodded slowly towards Thorne, confirming the lie with a gesture, because he knew he had no other option.

***

“What a mediocre performance by Captain Thorne,” muttered the blond, inspecting his fingernails.

“He didn’t even notice that the blood on my tunic doesn’t belong to me.”

He turned to Raziel and extended a pale, fine hand.

“I’m Arawn Rivers. Exorcist at your service.”

The word resonated in Raziel’s head like a hammer blow.

’Exorcist?’

’One of those weirdos here? At St. Celeste?’

Exorcists weren’t simple novices.

They were the Church’s secret weapons, the hunting dogs they sent to the darkest corners of the world to deal with the shit no one else dared to name.

They were magnets for disaster, living legends that left a trail of purifying fire and corpses.

And the Inquisition didn’t send one of their elite hunting dogs just to look at the scenery.

They had sent him for him.

Arawn’s hand was still in the air, waiting.

A friendly gesture that felt like the barrel of a gun pointing at his chest.

Raziel knew he had to shake it, keep up the farce of the clueless novice, but his muscles didn’t respond. His mind was screaming.

“Ah, I see,” he managed to say, with his voice as flat as he could.

Every second of silence that passed was an invitation to disaster.

Arawn tilted his head, his smile widened a millimeter, enjoying Raziel’s discomfort.

And just when the tension was about to break…

“RAZIEL!”

A voice, as familiar and loud as always, shattered the oppressive silence.

Lucian Valerius Nyxian entered the archive as if he owned the place, with his impeccable uniform and that ’the world revolves around me’ energy.

He stopped dead when seeing the scene: Raziel frozen, Arawn with his hand extended and a predator smile.

Lucian blinked, processing the image.

Then, a huge smile took over his face.

“Hey, hey! What is this?” he said, approaching and putting an arm around Raziel’s shoulders. “Am I interrupting a staring contest? Who’s winning? I bet on you, Raziel, you have a naturally unfriendly face by default.”

Raziel pushed Lucian’s arm away with a discreet nudge.

“Lucian, not now.”

“Not now? Of course now!” insisted Lucian, completely ignoring the warning in Raziel’s voice.

His gaze landed on Arawn, analyzing him from top to bottom with the shamelessness of a noble evaluating a horse. “And you are… new? You look like the type who reads a lot, how boring.”

Arawn lowered his hand slowly, and his smile didn’t waver.

In fact, he seemed to find a new source of amusement in the situation.

His gray eyes moved from Raziel to Lucian, and back.

“Lucian Valerius Nyxian, right?” said Arawn. “I’ve heard about you, they say your loyalty is as loud as your mouth.”

Lucian’s smile tensed up.

“Some call it loyalty. Others, good taste in choosing friends,” he replied, and his grip on Raziel’s shoulder became a bit firmer.

“My friend here and I have things to do. Things that don’t involve… mysterious people. So, excuse us.”

Lucian pulled gently on Raziel, trying to guide him towards the exit, ending the conversation.

But Arawn didn’t move.

He didn’t even blink.

His amused smile widened, becoming sharp like the edge of a razor.

Slowly, he took a step to the side, blocking their path with a calmness that made hair stand on end.

“Ah, about that…” Arawn said, his voice dropping to a soft and dangerous murmur.

“I’m afraid your plans just changed.”

Arawn’s gray eyes locked onto Raziel, completely ignoring Lucian as if he were just another piece of furniture in the room.

“Because now” his smile twisted into something that wasn’t friendly at all.

“You and I have things to talk about.”

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