Page 100 of Heartless Heathens

He felt the prophetic weight of doom calling out to him. The end of the Satanic Shrine. Big red wasn’t on his side anymore. There was no side, there was just energy, chaos, and the ones who served it. That was the difference between us. Arlan thought there was a devil pulling the strings. We were that devil, and we knew just where the strings connected.

We made our own magic.

We studied the runes, the ancient texts, and the scriptures until we learned every ritual like the back of our hands, better than he ever had. We’d learned to call on ancient demons and use them for our bidding in exchange for the right offerings.

We learned that light and shadow weren’t enemies, but symbiotic creatures who couldn’t exist without each other.

It was a beautiful hypocrisy and we worked it to our advantage.

“What do you want to come of it?” Sonny asked and the old man cleared a lump from his throat, struggling to breathe.

“I expect I’ll find out if she’s worthy of my legacy. Of my name.” He said in an icy tone that let us know that was the only thing that truly mattered to him.

That’s why he’d effectively ruled for so long, no threat of being usurped by his predecessors because he kept emotion out of his choices. He made every decision out of facts and heavily collected information and he did it well.

The same traits he imparted onto Sonny so that he could become an efficient leader. I imagine Korina Black would have been very much the same way, had she stayed alive long enough. Sharp, bitter, and full of poison. I thought about Romina and wondered if nurture or nature would win over her. That sweet, innocent aura that hung over her was slowly turning black and thick like tar. It didn’t so much glow above her as it did drip down like battery acid eating away at what she used to be.

It was funny in that way.

Now that I knew who she was I could see so clearly that the more time she spent around us, the more she was just becoming who she was always meant to be had she been raised with us. But that sweetness that lived inside her was hers and hers alone. It wasn’t something that she cultivated from Frollo, or that she was born with as a Black. It was just who she was. That alone was enough to make me want to tell Arlan to go to hell, that he’d die without meeting her, without corrupting her or making her feel unworthy of his name.

“Bring me my granddaughter. I have a right to meet her.” He braced himself against the chair as he stood from the table, dropping the oxygen mask down while a servant took him by the arm.

“Fine. But you don’t tell her who she is or what you are to her. Not till we say she’s ready. I’m not gonna let you die and fuck her up even more,” Sonny said, standing up as well. “You’ve done enough, don’t you think?”

Arlan peeled his lip up in anger but nodded in agreement before turning his back on us and walking away. I exhaled heavily, turning to face Sonny.

“I’ll allow you to be upset over this,” he said, turning on his heels like that was the end of the conversation.

So fucking typical.

“How long have you known?” I asked, following him past the twenty-foot table.

He reached up behind his head to scratch his hair and I scowled, realizing just how long he’d been holding on to this secret.

“You didn’t think we deserved to know?” I raised my voice, crossing my arms over my chest.

“I was hoping he’d fucking die first, is that so goddamn wrong?” he yelled, losing his composure completely and taking me by surprise.

It wasn’t often Sonny Santorini was out of his depth. Not in control of a situation. I would let this go for now. It was more important to try to figure out how we would ease her to this new information.

“What the fuck happened to Korina Black and why does Claüde Frollo have her daughter?” I changed the subject.

“That seems to be the million dollar question, and it seemed like he was only giving us half the answer.”

We made our way out of the dining hall and escorted ourselves out, as we always did. Making sure to slowly walk by Medusa’s terrarium. It was a floor to ceiling enclosure the old man had made for his leucistic pit viper. She was a mean, grumpy, old bitch who was venomous as hell and even angrier to boot.

In all my life I’d never seen her out of her cage, and there was a part of me that wondered if the snake was ancient, or if the bastard was just replacing her year after year. Her tail vibrated back and forth the minute she sensed our presences looming over the glass. I swear, this viper held grudges too. We used to dance in front of her cage, riling her up when we were kids with nothing better to do. Then as I got older, I started sleeping in the guest house. I became afraid she’d break out of the glass and bite me in my sleep for tormenting her.

I would have deserved it.

She opened her mouth and hissed, fangs bared and sharp but her eyes that milky fog that let me know she was ready to shed her skin.

“Bye Medusa,” I taunted, and Sonny chuckled as if he’d been thinking about her too. “Why does he keep her anyway? I have never seen him look at that snake.”

“It was hers,” he explained before opening the door.

The light of the day broke through brightly as we stepped outside.