The Wicked and the Damned by Josh Reynolds & David Annandale & Phil Kelly

Author:Josh Reynolds & David Annandale & Phil Kelly [Reynolds, Josh & Annandale, David & Kelly, Phil]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781780307909
Published: 2019-02-18T15:43:04+00:00

‘And that’s it,’ Vendersen said. She rubbed her arms. ‘That’s my story.’

Marrikus coughed. ‘I see why you hesitated.’

‘And you called me mad,’ Valemar said nastily.

Vendersen whirled. ‘I’ll do more than that, Valemar.’

‘Commissar,’ he corrected. He took a step towards her, but Marrikus interposed himself.

‘Quiet, please, both of you,’ the missionary said softly.

Valemar looked at him, startled. Were the little man’s eyes blue? For a moment they’d seemed to flash. He shook his head. Marrikus was still talking.

‘We have an audience. It would be wise to show some decorum.’

Valemar turned and spotted the swaying shape of a mortuary-servitor stalking among the biers. Was it his imagination, or was it circling them? Its death-mask turned towards him, red eyes gleaming, and his head felt as if it were about to burst. The ache was growing worse. He rubbed his brow, and felt something wet. Condensation, perhaps. He looked at his fingers and thought, for a moment, that they were red.

He blinked, and saw that he had been mistaken. The others were watching him, and he wondered if they had seen anything. ‘What?’ he growled.

‘Nothing,’ Marrikus said hastily. He tugged at his robes and scratched, as if he were uncomfortable in them. Again, Valemar had the feeling that something was moving beneath the missionary’s garments. And he could almost hear… voices? He shook his head, trying to clear it. It was just a trick of the pain, making him hear and see things.

‘Well,’ Vendersen said. ‘We’ve both told our stories. It’s your turn, priest.’

‘Is it?’ Marrikus shuddered slightly, as if in pain. ‘Very well. Though I’m not seeing much commonality so far.’ He looked at Valemar, almost pleadingly. ‘What about you, commissar? Do you see any connections?’

Valemar shifted his weight, suddenly uncomfortable. ‘No. Not yet.’

‘Maybe this was – not a good idea, then. Maybe… maybe we should try and leave.’ Marrikus looked around. Unable to help himself, Valemar did so as well. The mortuary-servitors were watching them again. And they were closer this time. Only a few biers away. How had they got so close, without being noticed? His head ached so badly. Maybe that was why he’d missed them.

‘I tried to leave earlier,’ Marrikus said. ‘Did I say that?’

‘You did,’ Vendersen said.

‘They wouldn’t let me. Why won’t they let us leave?’ His voice had as much curiosity in it as fear. ‘They shouldn’t – they shouldn’t care about us at all.’

‘But they do,’ Valemar said.

Marrikus looked at him. ‘For a moment, I thought you were bleeding.’ He tapped a point between his eyes. He looked at Vendersen. ‘And you…’

‘What about me?’ she demanded.

Marrikus shook his head. ‘It’s my turn, isn’t it? That’s what you said. Yes.’ He swallowed. ‘Time to tell my story…’

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