A villain's secret

Chapter 9: Drink up, devil

Nox POV
Present day

A loud, beating drum banging in his brain pulled Nox out of his sleeping state.

It had been five days since Lillian's birthday. And In those five days Nox had been lost in the thrill of the kill. Hunting down targets all over the kingdom. He'd spent every night doing the same thing. Killing until he felt like sleeping. Then sleeping until he felt like killing. Some of his blades were becoming permanently stained with a crimson polish.

The night he'd left Lillian fast asleep on the floor of her room, he'd headed home with his mind almost completely consumed by darkness. Claws scratching at the edges of his consciousness begging to be freed like evil spirits. The same feeling that in the past had made him pick up his sword and draw it across the necks of every person he came across, like a musician guiding a bow across taut strings.

He'd found a bar on the way back to his apartment that night and before long he was diving straight into a drunken stupor. He'd greeted glass after glass of fiery liquid until he'd taken the bottle from the barkeeper's hands, downing the remains, only ever lifting his mask just enough for the rim to touch his lips. Time had passed by like a summer breeze, while to Nox life was running backwards against the tide, slow and dragging.

People came and went from the bar in varying stages of drunk, passing by Nox as he stayed seated in a dark corner of the room. Over the course of the night his sword had clashed with other swords and the memories were now a blur of red and black in his head. He didn't often drink alcohol, but Nox hadn't been himself. In that moment he was nothing more then the Grimm. The kingdom's best reaper. Someone to be feared. A heartless monster. Feelings had crowded his thoughts despite his efforts to drown them. He reminded himself who he was, telling himself again and again until he accepted it. He wasn't a good person. In fact he was the worst person. Nox had spent the past five nights proving that point over and over.

But still Nox knew that the next time he walked through her door, she'd smile. She'd smile at him. He thought that maybe she was just as evil as him for acting as if Nox was normal. Acting as if he meant something to her.

Opening his eyes fully, Nox crawled out of his bed. Glass shattered as his trembling hand knocked a couple of empty liquor bottles off the bedside table. With a bear like grumble Nox headed for a shower, ignoring the state of his room. He was a mess, physically and mentally.

Nox needed a distraction. He wanted something to stop him from marching straight back through the gates to the fourth ring. Stop him from going back to her.

He just couldn't understand why he felt this way.

The warm water of the shower ran down his toned body in rivulets. Washing away the stench of blood and booze. He ran his numb fingers through his damp hair and pulled it back from his face where it had fallen over his eyes. He stood under the pounding water for a long while, wishing he could stop feeling completely.

Stop. Stop it.

With a loud crack the tiles began to crumble under his fist as he punched the wall. Without his aura, his knuckles sung in an ache he could feel all the way in his clenched jaw.

The worst pain was the kind that you couldn't escape. The pain that crawled under your skin and danced through your mind. You couldn't comfort yourself with words that it would get better, it would heal. There was no healer that could patch you up and tell you to just rest. The pain that followed the loss of a loved one, the pain of hating yourself right down to the core with no one in the whole world to tell you it would be ok. Nox wanted it all to stop. He wanted his father to leave him alone for good. He wanted to stop hurting people. He wanted to be someone worthy of her smile. But fate had other plans for Nox, and he refused to be weak now when he had spent his life forcing himself to be strong.

The pipes groaned and creaked as the water begun to falter, spurting out of the rusting shower head every few seconds. Nox turned the squeaky copper wheel shutting it off completely before the whole thing fell apart.

Walking back into his room, a towel wrapped low around his hips, Nox noticed a messenger bird perched on his window sill. It's coal black wings glittering with hidden hues of red and blue. After a second the bird flew away, leaving behind a single feather for the Grimm.

With a bored expression Nox revealed the message. Life didn't change for a reaper, killing was like breathing. And if you wanted to eat and sleep under a roof then it was your only option.

Third ring - Town 1 - Henry Carello & Marianne Carello
Rank 4

An easy mission then. Rank 4 was the easiest rank with 0 being the hardest, generally reserved for ex or rogue reapers. The rank didn't matter to Nox, they all seemed just as easy to him. He could count on one hand the number of targets that had been a problem and even then he was always the one standing over their grave in the end.

Nox got ready for his mission and waited for the day to end. Various throwing knives and blades strapped to his body, some concealed by his clothing while others were on full display. His short sword pressing against his cloaked shoulders comfortably, while he slipped his mask on over his face. His breath warming his cheeks with every exhale until he was used to it again and air begun filtering in easily.

Lifting his hood over his head, Nox left his apartment like a ghost in the night.