Nameless Ghoul

Secondo

Shay left to attend to other ghoul business, with Sunshine tagging along to help with his errands. Secondo said he’d summon the witches later, once they were available. They wanted detailed descriptions from Itzal about the recent summonings and Santos’ capabilities. The more they knew, the better they could assess what they were up against.

Secondo liked to be prepared for every eventuality, and he took his role as head of security and the dark arts at the Abbey very seriously.

Since stepping down as Papa, he’d thrown himself into his true passions: magic and medicine. An expert in sorcery, he spent most of his time buried in ancient scrolls, deciphering long-forgotten spells and weaving them into the intricate wards that protected the Abbey. His pack of ghouls were the ones sent to handle external threats.

Hand-picked by Secondo, each one was a gifted problem-solver, known for their stealth and their willingness to deal with the messier tasks no one was equipped to deal with.

They had a fearsome reputation amongst the other ghouls, who whispered about them in hushed, reverent tones of awe.

“You are an alchemist as well as a shadow ghoul, sì?” he asked once it was just him, Secondo and Earth.

Earth, his massive earth ghoul, studied Itzal with intense green eyes, but he kept quiet. A stoic wall of protection.

Itzal frowned. He’d never thought of himself that way before. It was still new to him. He’d never had the training to harness his power. Santos had summoned him too young, before his magic had a chance to fully develop. Survival had come first over everything else. Over training, identity, or potential. There hadn’t been time to consider who or what he might have become.

All he’d managed was one day at a time.

Now, thinking about it almost made him laugh. Santos had been so obsessed with control, yet in keeping Itzal untrained, he might have wasted something powerful. Something that could have tipped the balance in his favour.

“Shay told me that’s what my powers are, but I didn’t realise it meant I was an alchemist,” Itzal said. “I’ve had no training.”

Secondo studied him for a long moment, thoughtful. Itzal could almost see the gears turning behind his mismatched eyes.

“Sì, Shay mentioned this,” he said at last, his gaze flicking to the collar at Itzal’s throat. “This collar poses many problems. I would like to bring someone over who can train you. But we cannot do that until the collar is removed.”

Itzal scowled. That made no sense.

As far as he knew, the collar was permanent. Santos had told him that a hundred times. Drilled it into him like scripture. The only way out of it was death. And death had never been part of Santos’ master plan.

Itzal had been to dark places in his own mind over the years. He’d lost count of how many times he’d longed for an end.

Anything to break the cycle of suffering. But the collar had contingencies. Part of its inscription forbade him from harming himself or his master. He could throw himself at the walls of his room and knock himself out, as he had in the early days, but he couldn’t end his own life. Not on purpose.

“But I was told the only way to remove the collar is to die,” Itzal said, voice low.

Secondo smirked, a slow, sly smile curving his lips.

“Sì, that is what we’ve always believed,” he admitted. “But we think we may have found a way around that.”

Itzal’s heart picked up speed. He met Secondo’s gaze, steady and calculating, with one of his own.

“What do you mean, a way around it?”