(Updates everyday)
Power demands what it's owed, and souls are its favorite currency.
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When museum curator, Lena Goodwin, receives an anonymous package containing damning evidence of a mistake she thought she buried years ago, her carefully built...
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Hugh's thoughts were consumed with memories of Zareth. He believed that was the only thing fueling him to continue on with the rituals. He was too blinded by it to notice the effect of the Codex. By how it was influencing him.
His next victim struggled against his bonds from where he was tied up on the floor. Hugh couldn't be bothered to put in the effort to put him in a chair. The traitor didn't deserve the comfort. He had helped kill his wife.
The feeling of regret over his argument with Lena a few days earlier has been brief. His desperation overshadowed any doubt she might have given him.
The Codex was prompting him to go on, to proceed down this self-destructive path, convincing him that it was the right one.
Hugh picked up the dagger he had used in the previous ritual. He already painted the alchemical symbols back on the wall. All that was left was the incantation. He ignored the protests from his victim as he slightly lifted the blade with shaking hands.
The traitor squirmed, his eyes darting around the room. He took in the symbols and the knife in Hugh's hand. He was likely confused about what was going on, but he knew enough to know the weapon was a good indication he wouldn't be making it out of this alive.
His cries, like the guy before him, were becoming more frantic the closer Hugh stepped towards him.
Hugh's expression was eerily calm, which was frightening in its own way. He took a deep breath, trying to steady his hand. The whispers were intensifying. It felt like they were wrapping around him, not just his thoughts but his entire being. He knew what he had to do, but Lena flashed across his mind again, and he hesitated. His hand jerked back slightly.
To his luck, or unfortunate, he couldn't decide, just as he was about to begin, the door slammed open. It hit the stone wall harshly, causing him to flinch. Hugh spun around, nearly dropping the dagger at the sight before him.
Lena strutted into the chamber.
He tried to mask his shock, but he hadn't expected her to show up. Especially not after their heated disagreement. She had said she was giving up and walked out. That was supposed to be the end of things between them.
Why in hell was she back?
"Lena," he irritatedly greeted. "You've got impeccable timing." He retracted his hand with the dagger and let it rest at his side.
His hostage relaxed slightly at the prolonging of his impending death.
"I could say the same about you." She gestured to the tied up man on the cold ground. "Performing a ritual without me? I thought we were in this together."
Confusion joined the mix of his emotions. What was she talking about? Had she entirely forgotten their prior conversation. That was putting it nicely.
