♥J You believe the crew would be dead without you. Why?

Balaam watches Abrehex’s clawed hands flash too quickly over the map. A low growl from Hamor, but Balaam squeezes tightly against the harness.  “How many idiots does it take to track the wolf? She can’t be har—“ 

“—I don’t care about Kirapocalypse, she’s the Doctor’s problem.” Abrehex spits through serrated teeth. Twisting back over the map, the smooth skin of his shoulder is overtaken by a jagged, branching crack. Balaam can see the red stone underneath.  

White smoke spells a word in Balaam’s mind, “She’s a distraction.”

“Precisely.” Abrehex’s coy smirk returns. Quickly, to himself, “three days since the burial, so he’s already made it to the…fifth gate. Huh! Doc’s little surprise sabbatical might have helped us out after all.” Turning to Balaam, “Alright, let’s go. You’ve been leering at me long enough, time to see me in action” Abrehex downs the last of his whiskey and with a crush of his fist, pours the shattered glass down his throat with it. “Bring the dog.”

“And the man?” Balaam looks to Eli

“Oh he’ll be fine once the flames go out” Abrehex whipping his dark cloak off of the seat near the fire reveals a small pentagram scratched into the wood, reflected now in Eli’s glassy eyes. 

 Balaam nearly laughs “Have they no education in this city?!” The top of the ornate cane strikes a salt shaker that crashes to the floor. A sharp white line appears, slicing across the line of Eli’s gaze. The bartender’s eyes swiftly focus.

Abrehex fumes, “You son of a—“ 

“Boawf! “  

//

The shuddering sound of an iron chain being hoisted over the edge of an immense wooden deck.

“Look consecrated ground really only does the trick if your soul is—“ 

“Unblemished?” Balaam sneers

“Unclaimed.”  

Abrehex ducks under a fallen beam, leading Balaam and Hamor down a crumbling staircase in the ruin. “What the good Doctor doesn’t know is that Joey sold his soul to me last summer for a better jumpshot.” Abrehex sizes up Balaam’s incredulity. He thinks to himself I thought I was the stone man here. 

Abrehex continues, “If Doc’s right about Kira, and he’s always right, then she went berserk in the park. And that’s the Mane’s territory.”

“And this the Mane will be upset.”

“Close. She’ll be in a fervor, she’s wanted Kira in her pack since Joey put her on the beat.”

The smell of slag and burnt copper. From around a corner, a high pitched hollering voice.

Abrehex listens for a moment before: “She was right, you know about Joey being the first one to figure her out, but she had no idea how stupid he was for her. Lucky for everyone else it means I can keep the Mane from getting her claws on Kira”

The whoosh of a winch cut loose from a platform high above. 

No longer looking back to see if Balaam’s listening, “See the Mane’s badgering us for a new set of teeth, but I happen to know a soul that’s ravenous for Doc’s furry wrecking ball. And we both know he loves to play the hero. Like I said, stupid.” 

“Someone is.” Balaam’s assessment. 

A sharp braork as a wooden slat crumbles underneath Hamor

“Ooh ow, hey buddy, I’m sorry!” Abrehex squats down to scratch the dog’s chest, his body precariously folded over cloven hooves. Looking up at Balaam, “The fifth gate is a hell of a hike, but at least I’ve got leads here. He gonna be alright?”

Balaam looking past Abrehex into the dusty courtyard at the center of this operation, his vision invaded now by the outlines of grasping crimson vines, “You’re not welcome here.”

“Of course I’m not welcome, but I have business. My claim to Joey’s soul is ratified, and the signatories own half the crews up here so we better not get any trouble. Joey’s a gambler and a fighter, so six and seven will offer these demons a lot for him, but the soul’s mine. In blood.” 

“And why did you find the need to bring me into this cursed exchange?”

“Because you’re the only one I can’t lie to beautiful” 

Abrehex stands up to look Balaam in eye to eye “oh and I needed him” he says holding up the end of a leash, the end of it dripping molten metal.

Bounding toward the field of souls that grow in the gardens of the fifth gate on the third night of the mortal soul’s journey, Hamor recognizes the scent and spirit of someone that only he can find familiar in this dismal jungle of black leafed stalks. He starts and digs at the gravel below the urn where Joey’s soul grows from blood red sand. Abrehex arcs the sickle-like end of his tail toward the base of the stalk and pulls a flat silver box from his cloak. A raspy, wheezing, chirping, laughter stays him.

Balaam, swimming through the vines of his vision, searching for the devil he knows, sees a suffocation of black feathers, and only hears:

“Take him Fel.”

“I will, he’s mine. His soul is rightly sold to me.”
​
More sickening, almost choking laughter, “Keep your contract intercessor. It is a night for the damned, and our rivers will run rich with souls. Such a delicious bane that your priest never made it to his consecration.”

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