Playing With Fire

Chapter Three VENGEOUS

The first thing Baron Vengeous did when he set foot on Irish soil was murder someone.

He would have preferred to arrive without incident, to have stepped off the boat and disappeared into the city, but his hand had been forced. He had been recognized.

The sorcerer had seen him, picked him out in the crowd as he disembarked. Vengeous had walked away, led the sorcerer somewhere quiet, out of the way. It was an easy kill. He had taken the sorcerer by surprise. A brief struggle, and Vengeous's arm had wrapped around the man's throat. He hadn 't even needed to use his magic.

Once he had disposed of the body, Vengeous walked deeper into Dublin City, relishing the freedom that was his again after so long.

He was tall and his chest was broad; his tightly cropped beard the same gun-metal gray as his hair. His clothes were dark, the jacket buttons polished to a gleam, and his boots clacked on the lamplit sidewalks. Dublin had changed dramatically since he 'd been here last. The world had changed dramatically.

He heard the quiet footsteps behind him. He stopped but he didn't turn. The man in black had to walk around him, into his line of sight.

"Baron," the man said in greeting.

"You're late."

"I'm here, which is the main thing."

Vengeous looked into the man's eyes. "I do not tolerate insubordination, Mr. Dusk.

Perhaps you have forgotten. "

"Times have changed," Dusk responded evenly. "The war is over."

"Not for us."

A taxi passed, and the sweeping headlights illuminated Dusk's pale face and black hair.

"Sanguine isn 't with you," he noted.

Vengeous resumed walking, Dusk by his side. "He will join us soon, have no fear."

"Are you sure you can trust him? I appreciate that he freed you from prison, but it took him eighty years to do it."

Had Dusk been any other man, this remark would have been the height of hypocrisy, as he himself had not lifted one finger to help Vengeous either. But Dusk was not any other man.

Dusk was scarcely a man, and as such, loyalty was not in his nature. A certain level of obedience, perhaps, but not loyalty. Because of this, Vengeous harbored no resentment toward him.

The resentment he harbored toward Sanguine, on the other hand . . .

Dusk's breathing suddenly became strained. He reached into his coat, fumbled with a syringe, then jabbed the needle into his forearm. He depressed the plunger, forcing the colorless liquid into his bloodstream, and moments later he was breathing regularly again.

"I'm glad to see you're still in control," Vengeous said.

Dusk put the syringe away. "I wouldn 't be much good to you if I wasn't, would I? What do you need me to do?"

"There will be some obstacles to our work, some enemies we will no doubt face. The Skeleton Detective, for example. Apparently he has an apprentice now — a dark-haired girl.

You will wait for them outside the Sanctuary,

tonight, and you will follow them, and when she is alone, you will fetch her for me."

"Of course."

"Alive, Dusk."

There was a hesitation. "Of course," Dusk repeated.