Empyreal, Book 1

Chapter 26

The grand manor was a vision of beauty. Its marble pillars and crystal chandeliers glimmered in the soft dusk light. Guests in their finest attire ascended the front steps, where servants waited to usher them inside.

In the entrance hall, Malachi stood tall. His jet-black hair was freshly brushed back, accentuating his regal features. His Icy blue eyes sparkled with excitement as he greeted each guest. Though his face was usually hard, tonight it seemed lit from within. He looked every bit the charismatic host, shaking hands and flashing smiles, even as his mind churned with darker thoughts.

Underneath his charming facade, Malachi seethed. These simpletons had no idea the extent of his power. Let them bask in the manor's luxury tonight - soon everything they valued would belong to him. For now, he would be patient. The time to reveal his grand vision drew near. Until then, he would play the gracious host.

Malachi was in his element, playing the consummate host as the guests arrived. He shook hands and exchanged pleasantries, all the while calculating how he could use each person to further his ambitions.

Out of the corner of his eye, Malachi noticed one of his security guards approaching. The man had a grim look on his face as he came up beside Malachi.

"Sorry to interrupt, sir, but we have a situation," the guard muttered under his breath.

"The prisoners have escaped."

Malachi tensed, though his polished smile never wavered.

"Oh do excuse me," Malachi interjected, cutting off a guest mid-sentence. "It seems some rats have gotten loose in the manor. I simply must go take care of this little pest problem immediately."

He flashed an apologetic grin at the confused woman before turning on his heel. As soon as his back was to the guests, Malachi's eyes narrowed, and his mouth twisted into a scowl. How had they escaped? Incompetent fools, he would make them pay dearly for this.

As Malachi strode briskly from the hall, he froze in his tracks as a familiar figure caught his eye. There, leaning against a marbled column, was the man from the auction—the one who had tried to snatch the moonstone right out from under his nose.

Rage bubbled up inside Malachi like poison, his hands clenching into fists. In two swift strides he crossed the distance between them and seized the man by his collar, slamming him against the wall.

"What are you doing here?" Malachi hissed through gritted teeth. He tightened his grip, relishing the sound of the man gasping for air. "Who sent you?"

The man sputtered, his eyes wide with terror, and clutched at Malachi's wrists. "I don't—I swear I don't know what you're talking about—"

"Lies!" Malachi slammed him against the wall again, harder this time. The man let out a strangled cry. "You think I would forget so easily? You think you can just slither in here unnoticed?"

Malachi leaned in close, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "I should kill you where you stand. It's no less than you deserve for the stunt you pulled at the auction." He watched with grim satisfaction as the last vestiges of color drained from the man's face.

"Please, have mercy," the man whimpered. "I meant no disrespect, my lord, I was only following orders. I didn't know the stone belonged to you!"

Mercy. What a pathetic appeal. As if Malachi had any mercy left in him. He peered into the man's eyes and saw the naked fear and desperation there, betraying his lies. This worm knew exactly what he was doing that night. And now he would face the consequences.

"You have outlived your usefulness," Malachi said coldly. He released his grip and the man crumpled to the floor, gasping for air. Malachi turned away, a grim smile twisting his lips.