Page 70 of Ballad of Nightmares

“Something tells me the people in that cathedral will like it too,” Rolfe said.

Sam ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “Long night ahead,” he said. “You don’t have to help if you don’t want to.”

But Rolfe shrugged him off. “Wouldn’t dream of missing it, boss.”

Every step down the halls to the cathedral seemed to get heavier and heavier. Sam was grateful for Rolfe at his side, knowing how much his friend didn’t like hearing the cries. Taking his own justice was one thing. He could fuel that behind rage and adrenaline. But helping those at their edge…

It had never been Rolfe’s strong suit.

Murmurs sounded aloud as they hit the glass-covered hall connecting to the cathedral, and when Sam pushed the double doors open, he stilled on the threshold.

There were more than a hundred souls waiting for him. Some were bloodied. Some were broken. And others…

Others were so far to that edge that Sam wasn’t sure he’d be able to get a response from them.

As he took a look around the room, his thoughts went to Ana, and he thought of how she would have reacted to seeing this. If she would have stood with him and helped carry those people into the next life. Or if she would have found it too hard to stick around.

Sam looked at his friend stood stiff at his side. “Are you sure you’re okay here?”

Rolfe looked around again at the bodies bleeding out and choking all around them. His face was pale, sweat slowly beginning to bead on his forehead, but he clapped Sam on the shoulder. “Right behind you, boss,” he swore.

Sam nodded and drew a deep breath. “We take this one at a time. Just help me keep them comfortable.”

CHAPTER THIRTY

SAM AND ROLFE didn’t bother washing the blood off their bodies before dawn broke the horizon.

One hundred and seventy-two souls had been given the chance at revenge, and thus turned demon in that cathedral—the cathedral with depictions of Death in the stained glass. The hardwood floor was now so covered in red that Sam was sure it was its new stain.

The pair hadn’t even moved from the room after the last soul was taken, too exhausted to lift a finger.

Sam laid flat on the altar in the middle of the room and stared at the painted ceiling as the voices finally cleared his throbbing head, Rolfe leaning against it on the floor. He hadn’t even transformed he was so tired.

The smell of death lingered around them, and the grand gothic doors creaked open as grey light filtered through the windows.

Millie made a grunt of disgust as she swept into the room, and Sam didn’t bother sitting up or looking at her.

“If you’ve come to help clean—“ he waved a hand, and shadows began to curl around the floor “—you’re too late.”

“I came to see if the bodies were far enough inside the border last night,” she said. “And to make sure you didn’t lie here all day. Though, I didn’t expect to see Rolfe here.”

“Course I’m here,” Rolfe said, though his words were barely coherent.

The deathhound had held in his vomit and helped Sam as best he could the entire night. He’d kept those calm, heard their pleas, and sometimes held their hands as Sam either cut their throats to reprieve them into their next existence, or guided their dying souls into the dark abyss of an immortal, yet demonic, abyss. He talked with a few who were on the edge of making that decision, telling them what he’d gone through and how he’d made his choice, and no matter how many times Sam heard Rolfe’s story, it still wove an ever-tightening thread around his heart.

Rolfe and Millie. Two who had waited and waited, held on for days just for Sam to find them because they’d heard Death was free and offering revenge. He’d met Rolfe when Rolfe was a young teen slave in the northern army. Like Millie, he had been ripped from his family as a child and sold off as a whore and servant. To bend to whatever needs of the northern Commander at the time. He’d once been beaten so poorly as a child that Sam had gone to him because he’d thought he was about to die, but Rolfe had shown resilience and told Death he would not be taken. Not yet. That young boy had refused Death, refused immortality.

So, Sam had made a vow to find him once the war broke out years later.

And he did.

“You two need showers,” Millie said.

“I’m content lying here the rest of my existence,” Sam muttered.

Rolfe raised two fingers. “As am I,” he said.

Millie stopped on the other side of Sam and looked directly over him, brow raising. Sam resisted shoving her and finally sat up, knowing she would not give up until he was moving.