Page 9 of A Kiss From Death (Oath of Vengeance #1)

A giant lake marks the center of Fallout, opening wide in front of us. Each sector wraps around it in a circle, encasing it.

This used to be our favorite spot to sneak to on late summer nights. The calm blue water stretches as far as I can see, wild grass surrounding it. It’s so smooth, it looks like you could walk right across it. It smells fresh and earthy and instantly calms my raging emotions.

This place has a way of making everything else disappear and lets you live in the moment. We didn’t have to carry labels around here like orphan, spy, or Vagrant. We were just Theo and Nyxi, one soul shared between two vessels. Just us .

The ache in my heart draws to the surface again, and it takes everything in me to shove it far down into the depths to deal with later. Right now is not the time to display any signs of weakness.

There’s a small, wooden dock jutting out towards the center of the lake, where the rest of the contestants are gathered.

I take in each sector’s nominees spread out as far as the small docks allows, glaring at each other with threatening looks.

Seems the games have started before the Crucible has even begun.

This is the first time my competitors are getting a glance at their competition.

Me, on the other hand, I’ve already done my due diligence.

I’ve learned each of their personalities and strengths I can use to leverage my game.

I know who might make sound alliances and who I should definitely stay away from.

As if on cue, I spot Tank Finnegan from Sweat Sector talking with Jade Huxley from my sector. I knew they would become quick allies. Both lack empathy and tend to choose violence as the only answer to any situation. They are definitely on my ‘no chance in hell as allies’ list.

Tank towers over Jade’s small frame, a sinister smile slapped across his face.

He is easily the biggest man here in terms of pure size, his giant, tanned arms on full display.

I have to crane my neck to take him in entirely, and he’s even bigger than I thought while standing this close, light blue eyes shining with mischief.

He has to be at least seven feet tall, standing almost a full two feet above me.

His hair is bleached by the sun, making it so blond, it almost appears white.

I feel sorry for his mother, who had to push out that monstrosity.

Ouch!

Scanning the crowd, my eyes snag on Cartwell Hart from Enlightened Sector standing alone at the very edge of the dock. This is exactly where I would expect him to be. From what I’ve gathered, he is very much an outcast and sticks to himself and his thoughts.

What he lacks in size and muscle, he makes up for with his brains. The man is a certified genius. While others may underestimate him, I know he will be a fierce competitor.

“Don’t embarrass me,” Hade whispers under his breath, which draws me back to reality .

This man really has the fucking audacity .

“I was just about to tell you the exact same thing.” I whisper back snidely. “Unlike you, I have to make a good first impression around my competitors for the sake of my game. So, don’t fuck with me,” I growl.

“So she does have brains. Hmmm; could have fooled me.” He says it mockingly, and I can’t help the way it rubs uncomfortably against my skin.

“I’m not religious, but you bet your ass I will be praying to the Empress tonight that I never have to see your insufferable face again.” I shove a shoulder into him, and of course, he doesn’t move an inch.

“Hate to break it to you, Nightmare , but unfortunately, you are stuck with me for the time being. And trust me, I would rather be shackled to anyone in existence but you,” he states.

“So, you better rein in that nasty temper of yours and behave. I don’t give second chances, and unfortunately, you’ve already used up all of yours in record time. ” His temper flares back to life.

Who the hell does this man think he is? A self-proclaimed god, if I had to guess.

I’m about to make a snarky retort when his words replay in my head. “Wait, what did you just say?”

“I threatened you to behave. Does that word exist in your vocabulary, or do I need to spell it out for you?”

“First off, kindly go eat a bag of oranges. Second, I meant before you let your brute-ish tendencies take over and threatened me to behave. What did you say?” I pray to the Empress I heard him wrong.

“That you’re stuck with me,” he says bluntly.

“No,” I reply in a clipped, final tone. “Not happening. Why do I even need to be shackled to anyone?”

“Trust me, I’m not happy about it either. Each contestant is paired with their own personal Vanquisher during the entirety of the Crucible,” he states. “They are responsible for escorting you around and keeping tabs on your whereabouts at all times.”

“I don’t need a babysitter,” I seethe.

“I beg to differ, but this isn’t about you.

In past games, contestants have tried to escape to live in Lunaria off the grid.

The Empress was not pleased,” he says plainly.

“Trust me, I have way more important things to be doing with my time than being your glorified babysitter.” He pins me with his hard gaze, but I don’t back down.

“More important things like what?” I hold up one finger. “Stroking your giant ego?” A second one. “Putting your nose into people’s personal business?” A third. “Oh, or maybe handing out nose jobs to women who don’t bow to your every waking demand?” Now, I’m the one glaring.

“Do not push my buttons right now. I will not tell you again.” He steps closer, his chest against mine while glaring down at me.

“You will obey me, or I will lock you in your room like a prisoner for the entirety of the Crucible. At this rate, I don’t believe it will be very long with that obnoxious mouth of yours.

Got it?” He waits for my compliance with raised eyebrows.

“Crystal clear, Death Reaper. Killing the mood, as usual. I really nailed your nickname on the head.” Taking a calming breath, I look up at him with pleading eyes. “Can I at least choose who my guard will be? Maybe someone with less of a temper and easier on the eyes?”

I know damn well this man is extremely easy on the eyes, and it infuriates me to my core. I’d sooner die than admit that to him, though. I will, however, take any jab I can to knock his giant ego down a peg or two…or eight.

“Lucky for you, I am only your temporary guard. As I said earlier, I have more important things to do with my time than babysit a child. ”

“Me, a child? Says the one who literally punched me in the face and didn’t have the balls to apologize. Are you lacking in that department? I know a good healer who could help you out,” I taunt.

A fed up grunt is his only response.

“If you aren’t my guard, why come here at all?” I ask honestly.

“Your prick of a guard partied a little too hard last night and failed to show up to his post this morning. Seeing as I am the Empress’ personal guard and right hand, I took it as my duty to get the job done by any means necessary.” He sounds annoyed.

“Personal guard…” I repeat, trying to make sense of them. If he is Empress Seraphine’s right hand, that means… No, it can’t be.

Shit.

My eyes turn to saucers as I gaze up with understanding, and I wish I could wipe away the smug smile spreading across his face at my realization.

“You’re the Cardinal,” I state rather than question. Everything suddenly makes so much sense—his bluntness, his hard exterior, his all together ‘I don’t give a damn’ attitude towards everything and anyone.

This man sports a god complex, but for good reason.

Tales of the ruthless Cardinal spread all the way to Fallout, the great warrior who could shatter a man’s mind with a single look.

His full depth of powers are unknown, but it is rumored he can control anything to do with death.

It makes sense he’s tasked as the Empress’ personal protector.

“You’ve heard of me?” he asks smugly.

“I’m not gonna answer that and feed into your overflowing ego,” I say plainly.

Now I know why he laughed when I called him Death Reaper.

“So, when do I get my original guard back? And are we going to stand here all day, or do I finally get to see what all the fuss is about with this giant floating rock they call Lunaria?” I counter .

His face turns serious at my mention of returning to my previous guard. “You will have me until I find someone capable of taking my spot.” There is no arguing with his tone.

Every time I feel like I’m starting to understand this man, he makes my head spin. I don’t want to piss him off after learning who he is, so I keep my mouth shut for now.

One of the other Vanquishers clears his throat in an attempt to gain everyone’s attention. “The Empress has a message for you all,” he states, masking his face in neutrality.

He raises his palms face up in front of his chest, facing the sky.

Closing his eyes, he concentrates while flexing his hands in a claw-like shape.

What forms in front of my eyes is one of the most breathtaking things I’ve ever seen: a baby blue orb of light exploding from his palms, casting a globe floating in the air.

Staring straight at us, in perfect detail, is our Empress.

Illuminist.

Illuminists can replicate anything they’ve seen by creating light illusions out of thin air.

They can create stagnant or moving shapes from their imagination or replay events that have unfolded in front of them, including sounds.

This illuminist must have listened to the Empress earlier and is now relaying it for us in exact detail.