Constantine has joined the LoneStar scythedom.”
Only now did Rowan notice that the jewels that had adorned Constantine’s robe the last time Rowan had seen him were gone. And although his robe was still crimson, the fabric was now rugged canvas. While scythes were free to align themselves with any region they chose, it was rare that an important scythe like Constantine joined a different region. Rowan couldn’t help but think it was a trick.
Scythe Travis laughed. “Told you we should have warned him.”
“Believe me, Mr. Damisch,” said Constantine. “I am no more pleased to see you than you are to see me, but there are concerns greater than our mutual animosity.”
Rowan still wasn’t sure if he believed it. He couldn’t even imagine the high and mighty Constantine as a LoneStar scythe, limiting himself to gleaning only by bowie knife—the only rule of the LoneStar scythedom beyond the commandments.
“Please, Rowan, sit down,” said Scythe Coleman. “We have business to discuss.”
And when he sat, she gave Rowan a single page. On it were a list of names. All scythes. There were about fifty of them.
“Those are the scythes we have decided that you should end,” Coleman said.
Rowan looked up at Coleman, then down at the page, then up at Coleman again. Could they actually be asking him to kill fifty scythes?
Travis, who was leaning against a wall with his arms crossed, gave a mournful oh boy sort of whistle. “The look on his face says it all, don’t it? This won’t be easy.”
Rowan held the sheet out to Coleman. “No,” Rowan said. “Out of the question.”
But Scythe Coleman didn’t take back the sheet and was not about to take no for an answer. “Don’t forget that we rescued you from the prospect of a painful death, Rowan,” she said. “And because we rescued you, thirty thousand innocent people were gleaned. You owe it to us as your rescuers, and you owe it to those poor people.”
“All we’re asking,” added Travis, “is that you rid the world of problematic scythes. Didn’t you already have your heart set on doing that? Now you won’t be working alone. You’ll have the LoneStar scythedom’s backing.”
“Unofficial backing,” added Coleman
“Right,” agreed Travis. “No one can know. That’s the deal.”
“And exactly what makes a scythe problematic to you?” Rowan asked.
Coleman snapped the page away from him and pulled a name from the list. “Scythe Kurosawa. He has spoken out against our region for years and has insulted our High Blade time and time again.”
Rowan was incredulous. “So that’s it? You want me to end a scythe for having a big mouth?”
“You’re missing the point,” said Travis. “Why is this so hard for you, son?”
Through all of this Constantine said nothing. He just stood back, with a funereal expression. The fact was, as Scythe Lucifer, Rowan vetted his choices thoroughly. If he could find a single redeeming quality to the scythe in question, he left that scythe alone. He personally knew at least three of the scythes on that list. They might not have been the most upstanding of scythes, but they didn’t deserve to be ended.
“Sorry,” said Rowan. “If you rescued me so you can use me to settle your grudges, then put me back on the pyre.” Then he turned to Constantine. “And you! You’re a hypocrite! You hunted me for gleaning bad scythes, and now you’re fine with me going out there to do it again?”
Constantine took a deep breath before he spoke. “You forget that I was an underscythe to Goddard. After what I’ve seen, I’ve come to feel his hold on the world must be weakened by any means necessary. All the scythes on that list are of the new order and fully embrace Goddard and his philosophies. You began your rampage because you believed the scythedom needed a dramatic overhaul. A culling, if you will. Although I am loath to admit it, I believe you are right.”
Did Constantine actually just say that? Hell would be freezing over if the Thunderhead weren’t controlling its weather.
“Thank you for saving my life,” Rowan told Coleman and Travis. “But like I said, I don’t take requests.”
“Told you so,” Travis said to Coleman. “Plan B?”
Coleman nodded. Rowan shuddered to think what plan B was, but no one was pulling out their knives to glean him.
“In all the time since you were revived, did you ever once ask about what happened to your family?” Scythe Coleman said.
Rowan looked away. He had been afraid to ask—not just out of the fear