The Faceless Ones

Chapter Thirty-seven. Falling into Place

Batu led that wretch of a girl between the trees and then changed direction, keeping low. She had broken his nose and some of his teeth, and his left side was badly burned, but he couldn't afford trivialities like revenge. Not now. He hid and watched her pass, then dug a shallow hole and dropped the Scepter into it. He covered it with earth and leaves and doubled back.

When he reached the yard and saw the massacre, he laughed.

A dozen Cleavers were already dead. They littered the ground, an ill-made carpet of broken bodies and blood. The Faceless One, its clothes burned and torn and hanging in shreds, its face blank and smooth and terrifying, walked slowly through them.

A trio of Cleavers lifted into the air, and their bodies folded back on themselves and caved inward. Their remains dropped, forgotten about. More Cleavers, their gray uniforms splattered with the blood of their colleagues, attacked with unceasing determination, but the blades of their scythes merely bounced off the skin of their enemy.

Batu turned as Murder Rose ran up to him and gripped his arm. "What have you done ?" she raged. "You told us these marks would protect us! You said they'd shield us!"

"They are not shields," Batu said, his voice calm despite the exhilaration he was feeling. "They are invitations."

Rose stared at him, then turned and sprinted away. Batu watched her disappear into the trees.

A torrent of impossibilities flowed after her, making the trees creak and sway. Re heard her scream, and then there was silence.

There was one more god out there, and Batu went to find it.