Malcolm Tent
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Wish upon the Stars chapter 633
🕑 Added 2024-05-24 23:50:52 +0000 UTCStepping back into the building felt…different. Not the building itself, obviously, I’d been in there five minutes ago, but my own perception of it. I felt stronger, more confident. Which was nuts because I’d just essentially committed myself to taking over the universe. Or at least like…a seventh of it.
We found my mom and sister standing with my grandfather within seconds. As I approached, Callie stepped toward me and reached up to adjust my cloak on my shoulders, using the distraction as an excuse to ask me mentally. ‘Are you alright? I felt something…strange. The bond shifted a little. You feel different now.’
‘I am different now.’ I responded cheerfully into her mind. ‘But not in a bad way. I had a nice talk with Zeke, and it cleared some things up for me. About myself, and my family, and what I should be aiming for. Now, what exactly is going on here?’ I gestured to the small gathering, who were currently huddled around Bethy as she chattered breathlessly to my grandfather.
“And daddy told him that if he didn’t give my brother back, he was going to rip off his face and staple it to our front door.” She said happily. “Which is silly because our front door is huge and that would be so ugly and unbalanced. Don’t you think?”
The old man (though it was weird to think of him that when when he looked to be in his early twenties) nodded in consideration. “Most likely. Decorating with human body parts is more trouble than it’s worth. It’s disgusting and the upkeep is a nightmare. I remember the Black Sorrow Cult Arch-Bishops went through a phase where they would mount the tongues of their enemies on a necklace. The repairs took up hours every day.”
“Daddy.” Said my mother sweetly. “This is a banquet, perhaps speaking of disembodied tongue necklaces isn’t proper dinner conversation.” I don’t think I’d ever heard her call him that, but it was clear from her tone that it was a term she only used when she was annoyed.
He snorted. “Bah. You and your mother are both the same. Never let me have any fun.”
“No daddy.” She said with an eye roll. “We just care about what’s appropriate in social settings. Not all of us are Popes. But I’ll be sure to tell mom that you have such a low opinion of her sense of humor. I’m sure she’ll be thrilled.”
His previously relaxed face went pale and tense. “Now I…well that is to say. Let’s not be so hasty pumpkin. You wouldn’t want to get your old man in trouble now would you? I came all this way to this dumpster continent to see my precious daughter and granddaughter, doesn’t that buy me a bit of leeway.” He turned to the man standing next to. “Andrew, help me out here.”
Andrew turned to him in amusement and I was struck by how powerful he seemed, a hulking dark skinned man with a goatee wearing silver plate armor with gold accents. He had kind brown eyes and a wide bright smile. He shook his head with a chuckle. “Not my place, sir.”
“Oh, Solomon!” My mother said cheerfully. It’s good to see you. Thank you again for being such a good friend to my daughter. “This is Andrew Kraymore. He’s a Saint of the Red Revenant Church. Military branch, not Clergy. Similar to how your friend Gabriel is a Crusader, or rather, a Guardian now as opposed to a Minister or Bishop, which is the equivalent in the clergy.”
Andrew nodded to me cheerfully. “Well met, young man. I’m grateful for your support of the young mistress. And your friendship to young Gabriel. He’s a promising talent for our Order. The Radiant Order might not be the oldest of the military branches of the Church, but we’re among the most accomplished, and I foresee big things for him in our ranks.”
Bethy squealed happily. “Oh Gabe did you hear! Your boss likes you! That’s so exciting. Daddy says a good relationship with subordinates is key, because otherwise you’ll be tempted to just eat them when they annoy you.”
“Don’t be silly.” Said Andrew kindly. “It’s been decades since I’ve eaten a subordinate. You have nothing to worry about.” His voice was so earnest it took a second for it to be clear he was joking. Gabe’s face went white with terror, until the older man’s sincere face cracked and he started letting out guffaws of laughter.
The rest of us laughed along, amused at my friend’s gullability. Bethy bumped his shoulder with hers. “I like him. I think you’re in good hands.”
“So.” I interrupted, sad to see the good humor end but needing to focus. “Sir Kraymore, I hope that’s the right form of address. You’re the Pope’s right hand for this event? Does that mean you’ll be taking part in the debriefing?”
He nodded, the good humor melting from his face. “I will. It’s going to be quite the conclave this time. We have much to discuss. Will you be participating in the games?”
“Of course.” I said confidently. “I’m representing the E-rank of the Wish Curse Palace. Will Gabe be the one you’re fielding for your own competitor or will Chelsea be the one to take the field.” Fighting my sister sounded annoying, but with mom’s training I hoped I could learn to somewhat counter her purifying flame.
Chelsea pulled herself up straighter. “Ill be the one entering, thank you very much. And don’t think I’ll go easy on you just because I like Callie so much. You’re going down you big ape.”
I sniffled, wiping at my mask dramatically where eyes would be on my face. “Look Cal, she’s learning to trash talk. She’s so bad at it, but the fact that she’s trying is enough to make me well up a bit. Hopefully she’s better at whatever these games are than she is talking smack.”
My sister pouted at me, and everyone around us laughed. We were cut off by the booming voice of the announcement, and we all turned to grimace at the entrants for obvious reasons. “Announcing the arrival of his excellence, the Deathwish Pope of the Black sorrow cult, as well as his granddaughter Vivian Blackwater, and his personal valet The Black Knight.” Three figures stepped through the door, and every person in the room turned to look.
The Deathwish Pope was a tall imposing man in dark robes that tattered around the edges. His face was covered by what appeared to be an actual skull, sawed off at the face and with nothing below the jaw. Despite so many of his features being covered and not being able to feel an ounce of Impact off the man, I could feel his power from where I was standing. Nothing mystical or stat related, just a palpable force of personality.
The girl at his side was pale and regal, with shimmering dark hair cut off at her forehead in a sharp set of bangs, otherwise falling to her waist. She had dark blue lipstick on that set off her blue eyes and a black and blue flower in her hair that went with her black and blue ballgown, and her expression was predatory as she scanned the room.
Finally, the last member of their party was…a monster. A towering suit of black armor, over nine feet if I didn’t miss my guess, and probably half that wide at the shoulders. His eyes burned a malevolent red through the slits in his helm, the only thing about him visible through the thick armor.
“Deathwish.” Hissed my grandfather angrily. “Of course she would send him. Vindictive bitch.”
I wanted to ask more about that, but my sister turned to me quickly as they entered. “They’ll come over here first. This is important. Do NOT underestimate Vivian. She likes to play the holy maiden, and never has a bad word to say about anyone. She has zero temper, but she calculates everything you say to her like a tab, and she WILL pay back insults. She’s a fucking psycho, even though she doesn’t seem like it. Be careful.”
Sure enough, the party of three and several hangers on that hadn’t merited the introduction made their way over to us. The Deathwish Pope smiled under his skull mask at my grandfather. “Nicholas.” He said cheerfully in a raspy voice. “So good to see you.”
“Marcus.” Said the old man flatly. “I wish I could say the same, but I try not to be an unbelievable hypocrite every time I open my mouth. Different strokes for different folks, you know?”
I felt a slight shift in the air, and for a second I was confused, until a hand reached out and settled on Marcus’s shoulder. “Now let’s not do anything rash, moron.” Said Arble, smiling tightly at the robed figure. “Unveiling yourself like that would kill quite a few of our young ones here, and we aren’t in a position to waste resources like that, are we?”
“Arble of Aramore.” Said the Pope tightly. “Are you interfering in the business of the Black Sorrow Cult?”
Another man stepped out of the crowd behind Arble, baring his teeth at the dark robed figure. “No. I am. Why, you got a fucking problem with that?” The tall man with long dark hair and a closely trimmed goatee was wearing a dark suit with a red tie and a cloak fastened around his neck by a series of gold chains. I was briefly confused who it was, until I recognized the glowing red eyes and the sharpness of the smile. Bethy’s father, Morgan Lark. The Vampire.
The Deathwish Pope froze, eyes locked on Lark, before breaking into a casual laugh. “Of course not. Only teasing an old friend. No need to get so serious. The independents certainly brought their best this time.”
“Don’t try to start a conversation with me like we’re equals.” Said Lark bluntly. “I’m done with you now. You can fuck off.”
The robed figure stiffened, then decided it wasn’t worth the trouble and spun, stalking off with all his followers in pursuit. My grandfather closed his eyes, exhaling with an almost ecstatic sigh. “That was nice. I’m glad I got to see that. Good to see you Morgan. Still fucking terrifying I see. I’ve been getting to know your charming progeny. She and my granddaughter have become fast friends.”
The pale man sighed. “I know. I receive endless messages from her daily about all the friends she is making. She got her mothers enthusiasm.”
“Good for her.” Said Arble. “You’re a morbid son of a bitch. Anyone heard from the other attendees yet? I know three of the parties have shown up, but I’m too old to be sitting around this fancy young people party. My bones ache, and I want to get back to my bookstore.” His eyes fixed on me. “Speaking of which, how are you liking your purchase young man?”
“It’s certainly been…illuminating.” I said respectfully. “Having some trouble getting through it all, lots to unpack.”
He snorted. “Alistair always did like craft his words carefully. Not that it limited the amount of them that he used, loved to hear himself talk, that one. But he was a big fan of embedding secondary meanings in everything he said for people to parse later.”
“Honestly, that sounds kind of obnoxious.” I admitted with a shrug. “Pretty glad I don’t know anyone like that.”
That surprised a laugh out of Arble. “I do like you, kid. I don’t think many people make comments like that anymore, and more’s the pity. That old bastard needs some humility in his life.” He turned to Morgan. “See, I told you the kid has potential.”
The Vampire shrugged. “He looks a bit like the old man. I mean, they all do, but him more than most. Anyway, I’m bored, I’m going to go pick at the snacks. Bethany?”
“Coming daddy!” She chirped, grabbing Gabe and Chelsea both and dragging them after her as she followed her father off to search for snacks. I just chuckled at the poleaxed looks on their faces. Better them than me.
Comments
JJB4345_80_815
Thank you for the chappy! [Quote] my mother sweetly. “This is a banquet, perhaps speaking of disembodied tongue necklaces isn’t proper dinner conversation.” [/Quote] Shane's mom is such a buzz kill. Sasha really needs to broaden her horizons. :-P
Kevin McGuire
I think it's funny that Zeke hasn't brought up how he told everyone when one of the Black sorrow idiots tried to kill Shane way back in book one or two.
Kevin McGuire
I need a lot more of Arble and a bit more of Morgan Lark.
Dylan Alexander
I still find it funny how Shane’s mother pretends to not be his mother, not like everyone else clearly doesn’t know or at least suspect. We know black sorrow clearly knows.
