Immortal Sin |✓|

6.1 Truth and Consequences

It was freezing inside the warehouse. 

An October chill crept through the broken windows and missing doors, pushing the cobwebs that hung from the rafters. Bright floodlights held the darkness of night at bay, flooding the large, empty space with a strange yellow tint. The air, sharp and acrid, was choked with the smell of dust and winter. Stiff and achy, I shivered, hands tied behind me, feet and wrists bound to a rickety wooden chair. Less than five feet ahead, Dorian was tied to his own chair. His suit was torn, ruined by blood from the accident, but his wounds had long healed. We were out of the frying pan, stuck in the fire.

"You've been out for a while." Dorian's features were saturated with concern. "Are you okay?"

"Where are we?" I winced, feeling the split in my lip widen. "What are we doing here?"

"I don't know. I can't get free."

"Dorian, listen, if anything happens--" Voices approached, growing louder. "Don't do anything stupid," I hissed.

"You mean like bargain for your life?" he whispered back.

A broad-shouldered man stepped through the warehouse door, brushing rain from the collar of his trench coat. Though his weathered face held traces of youth, his dark hair was peppered with gray. His grim features and well-worn clothes gave him the look of a traveler, someone who had no home to return to once his business was over. 

"Good. You're awake." His English accent was heavy, rich with a dialect that said he and Dorian were from two very different regions. He smirked. "Fancy a cuppa?"

"Who are you?" I snapped.

"Not your enemy, darlin'." His head flicked in Dorian's direction. "But I am his."

"He's a hunter," Dorian calmly replied.

I frowned. "You know him?"

"I know his kind." He turned to the hunter. "Let her go. Your business is with me."

"First things first, mate. I need answers." The hunter's gaze slid to mine. His large, dark eyes were hard beneath the humor. "The name's Joshua. I'm looking for someone--Opal St. Martin." Removing a carton of cigarettes from inside his jacket, the same brand as Opal's, he tapped them against his palm. "Where is she?"

I shrugged. Dorian said nothing.

Joshua sighed. "My partner out there--he thinks we should kill you both and call it a day, St. Martin be damned. But she's one of ours, even if she can't finish a job to save her life."

"We saved her life," I retorted. "You should be thanking us."

The hunter took a drag from his cigarette. "Is that why she hasn't killed you lot? I find it hard to believe she's in your debt."

Dorian grinned. "Opal would kill me if she could. She just hasn't found a method that sticks." 

"You seem convinced. Guess I'll just have to see for meself." He reached behind him, pulling a silver handgun from his waistband in one fluid movement. He raised the gun and fired, shooting Dorian point blank in the chest.

"No! Stop!" I was sick at the sight of Dorian wheezing in pain. But the hunter fired again. I felt the blood spray as he put a bullet in Dorian's brain.

I had tunnel vision watching Dorian's head droop, his body limp with death. But I'd seen him shot and killed once already. He would survive this, and come back to me.

The hunter tucked his gun away, smiling in satisfaction.

"Asshole!" I struggled against my bonds, enraged by his callousness. "You didn't have to do that!"