Always Hate Me

22. Love and Hate

"Who was it?" Lucjan demanded.

"I don't know," Giovanni's voice was weak. "Some warlock. He told me to pass on that message and he definitely said it was for you." Giovanni's skin had a blueish tinge to it.

"Sir?" Frederick asked, awaiting further orders from Lucjan. But the captain was deep in thought. 

Tell him I'm coming for his heart...

Lucjan's mind returned to Ryder's cramped prison cell. In which he'd watched Jordan greedily feast, blood dripping down his chin. He remembered the sound Ryder's ribcage had made when Jordan had punched through it, shattering the bone, to wrench out the warlock's still warm heart. 

"Captain?" Frederick pressed. Lucjan made no reply. He sped from the room without a word of explanation, the world passing in a blur past him.

Frederick stared at the now vacant space and frowned. Lucjan had looked shaken. Who could rattle the great Prince of Gomorrah like that? 

Giovanni drank noisily from a blood bag.

"Tell no one about this," Frederick instructed him. "Understood?"

Giovanni nodded.

"Yes, sir." 

*

              

Lucjan marched through Gomorrah's miserable graveyard. The air was dank and fetid. Mosquitoes buzzed around him but Lucjan brushed them irritably aside. He avoided the marshy patches of ground and finally came to the lonely ditch where he'd buried Ryder's body. He stared down at the sight and his hands balled into fists.

The ground had been disturbed since he'd last been here. Lucjan growled menacingly. He got down onto his knees and attacked the earth, ripping it up with his bare hands. 

He should have burnt the monster's body – he should have burnt him to a pathetic pile of ashes and then scattered them in a cesspit.

He roared, enraged, as he dug – his hands and face becoming filthy. It began to drizzle, the cold rain pittering against the long blades of grass and weeds. Cold droplets dripped down Lucjan's neck. He stopped digging and rose to his feet. He standing now in a deep crater – one of his own making. It was confirmed. Ryder's body was gone. 

Lucjan threw back his head and bellowed up at the sky.

"FUUUUUCK!"

*

It had been hours and Frederick was pacing Lucjan's office, anxiously waiting for his return. At last, the double doors swung open and Lucjan entered. Frederick took in the sight of him, caked in mud and rain, and was momentarily taken aback.

"What is it?" Lucjan snapped when Frederick didn't speak. 

Frustrated, Lucjan stomped toward his cabinet and pulled out a glass bottle of blood. He poured himself a drink, his hands unsteady.

"I...err...I have a report, sir – from our man in the Heartsworn knights." Frederick murmured.

"Leave it on the desk."

"Yes, sir." Frederick set down the file and hastily retreated. 

Lucjan drank deeply, savouring the sweet taste. He needed to think of a plan of action. He took his time, washing first and getting changed before sitting down his desk and picking up Frederick's file.