Page 120 of The Death Wish
‘It tells me,’ he grunted, ‘that it prefers not to be hurled about like this. I’d like to face the halo with my intestines where they ought to be, if you don’t fucking mind.’ His struggle stilled with a thought. ‘I thought you claimed to have no idea of the lake’s location, nor the Sanctuary? Yet, here you are. Have you made this journey far more arduous than it needed to be?’
As if in contempt the Leviathan bucked, a movement that had everything loose in its belly rolling like cargo on a storm-blasted ship. Satine stayed even, which meant, thankfully, Pitch did too.
‘Do you not think I wouldn’t have had Sanu carry you here at the first moment if I had known such things?’ Satine’s disdain filled her hiss. ‘Besides, we did not know what the Seraph intended for you in the beginning. All Lucifer understood was that you had to be protected. He held onto the watch for a long time, before deciding to pass it to you. Then we learned along with you what must be done.’ The lady’s coils flashed as she adjusted her position. ‘But even if I had known sooner, I could not have shown you to the lake, for its position is not stagnant, and the Seraph alone maps its place in the world.’
‘They move the lake?’
‘Rarely, but yes. Its weight upon the world is great, even if it is only the Seals that connect it now to the purebreds’ domain. In moving the lake, they seek to maintain a balance that will not rend the world apart.’ Her massive head lowered. ‘But even if the lake remained where it was grown, I still could not have shown you here. I was not privy to where the events of the Day of Reckoning took place. The djinn were chosen by the Lord Enoch on that dark day to harness their nature-given power in this single, magnificent creature. A great guardian of the lake. I was the djinn chosen to tend to her, to bring her the sustenance of the natural world that would sustain her. But I was born within the Leviathan, and this is as far into Blood Lake as I have ever been, or may go.’
The beast dived at a gentle angle, then returned to level, its fleshy sides flexing and contracting as it swum. Pitch stared at the serpent, at the djinn who lay like a parasite in the belly of a beast.
‘You have been like this since that day?’
Pitch was a mere four hundred years old, and he already felt haggard with what it was to be a servant of the Lord Enoch. Satine knew thousands of years chained to his will.
‘I have. Of course I can enter the purebred world to feed, so there is some respite, but always I must return.’ Her tongue darted more slowly, her scales lifted and lowered like huge thickly woven fans. ‘I am tired of this place, Vassago.’
The Leviathan stole Pitch’s chance to reply. The beast rolled, and all the world turned upside down. Pitch’s gown, a terrible choice in hindsight, flipped like an umbrella thrown inside out in a violent wind, covering his face entirely. As he was averse to drawers, and Seraphiel must have remembered it, he was also giving Satine an almighty show of his arse and cock and balls. ‘Fucking Malik’s taint. This is ridiculous.’
‘I see the ankou did not cure you of your foul mouth.’
Despite the gentleness of the jest, and the flush of sympathy he’d felt on hearing the lady’s story, her comment grew hot fury behind Pitch’s eyes.
‘Don’t you dare speak of him.’ He knew very well how threatening he sounded. That was entirely the point. ‘Say nothing of him again, unless you wish to see your fish baked to a crisp.’
Quartz eyes watched him, wide and without blinking, just like the wisp. At least that was one goodbye he’d not had to endure.
‘Has Silas fallen? Have I lost my rider and my steed? I see nothing else keeping him from being at your side.’
The Leviathan drew back onto an even keel, and the moment Satine set him down, Pitch lunged for her. He wrapped his hands about her neck: thick as a drainpipe, smoother than the taffeta of his stained gown, and hard as rock. Even with his formidable strength, he barely made an impression.
‘Silas is safe.’ The hurt was physical, the ankou’s name a razor to his tongue. ‘I left him behind so he would not be harmed. Do not mention him again. I warn you.’
Coils shifted. ‘I understand.’
‘Make sure you do.’ He loosened his hands, stepping back, the wretched softness of the beast’s belly making him unsteady. Pitch exhaled, calming the fire that had risen. Seeing how grossly he’d overlooked another pain. One Satine would know well. ‘I overstep…my apologies, my lady. I must…I am…’ But truly there was no time for hesitancy. He considered going to a knee, but the thin, slimy covering on the leviathan’s innards decided him otherwise. ‘I ask your forgiveness for Lalassu’s death.’
The words scoured his throat, but gods, their release was blissful.
Satine’s tail tip shook, standing bolt upright. ‘My Pale Horse knew your importance. She made her choice accordingly. It was not you who struck her.’
‘But if I had not been so reckless –’
The hiss blew the sodden hairs from his face and made the damp lengths of his skirt rustle. ‘Enough. You cannot be like this.’
‘Like what?’
‘Sorrowful, repentant.’ Her solid head weaved back and forth. ‘Frightened for those you love. You said you were Vassago. Then be him. Not Tobias or Pitch, or a man broken by the loss of his lover, and the downfall of a mare. Leave them behind. Be the prince the angel chose. And if you truly wish for my absolution, then become the single-minded beast that is needed here.’
If you are not the mad prince, you are not enough.
Seraphiel had said it.
They needed the Berserker Prince. He who knew no allies, certainly no friends, and absolutely no lover who might distracthim from his purpose. He who could be a destructive maniac, precisely because he desired to be nothing else.
Thatprince was exactly why Seraphiel had chosen him.
The simurgh seemed to swell inside him, reach up between his ribs and into the crevices at his joints. Shaking loose the pieces of himself that Pitch had tried to hide. Rattling at them, desiring them free.