The Toll (Arc of a Scythe) - Neal Shusterman Page 0,91
to the big, boxy, armored truck, and followed by a few more motorcycle guards, trailing behind like a bridal train.
The Overblade himself was not present, even though the first limo was royal blue and studded with glimmering stars. There was no one in it – but the masses didn’t know that. The truth was, Goddard couldn’t be bothered to take a long, laborious journey when he could get the same effect by just pretending to be there. He wouldn’t have to show up until the actual day of the gleaning.
Instead, he put Constantine in charge of escorting the dread Scythe Lucifer to his ultimate doom.
Constantine, Rowan knew, had been in charge of finding him and taking him down three years ago. His crimson robe and limousine were the same color as the PUBLIC ENEMY stamp on the side of Rowan’s transport truck. He wondered if that was intentional, or just a happy coincidence.
Before they left Fulcrum City, Constantine had paid Rowan a visit once he had been loaded into his high-security truck and shackled.
“All these years, I wanted to lay eyes on you,” Constantine said. “And now that I do, I am profoundly unimpressed.”
“Thanks,” said Rowan. “I love you, too.”
Constantine reached into his robe as if to grab a blade, but thought better of it. “If I could glean you here and now, I would,” he said. “But the ire of Overblade Goddard is not something I wish to arouse.”
“Understandable,” said Rowan. “If it’s any consolation, I’d rather be gleaned by you than by him.”
“And why is that?”
“Because for him, my death will be vengeance. For you it would be satisfying a three-year mission. I’d much rather satisfy that than Goddard’s vendetta.”
Constantine took that in stride. He didn’t become any softer, but he no longer seemed on the verge of an explosion he would regret.
“Before we drive you to your well-deserved end, I want to know something,” Constantine said. “I want to know why you did what you did.”
“Why I ended Scythes Renoir, Fillmore, and the rest?”
He waved his hand. “Not that. As much as I detest your scythe-ending spree, it’s obvious why you chose the ones you did. They were all questionable scythes, and you passed judgment on them, even though it was not your judgment to pass. Those crimes are more than enough reason to glean you, but what I want to know is why you killed the Grandslayers? They were good men and women. The worst of them was Xenocrates, but even he was a saint compared to the others you ended. What possessed you to do such an unspeakable thing?”
Rowan was tired of denying the blame – what did it matter at this point? So he gave Constantine the lie that everyone already believed.
“I hated the scythedom for denying me the ring,” Rowan told him. “And so I wanted to damage it as much as I could. I wanted every scythedom around the world to pay for refusing to make me a true scythe.”
Constantine’s glare could have melted through the steel of the transport truck. “Do you expect me to believe that you are that small-minded and petty?”
“I must be,” said Rowan. “Why else would I sink Endura?” Then he added, “Or maybe I’m just plain evil.”
Constantine knew he was being mocked, and he did not take it well. He left and had nothing more to say to Rowan for the entire journey – but not without the grimmest of parting shots.
“It is my pleasure to tell you that your gleaning will be a painful one,” the crimson scythe said, oozing bitterness. “Goddard intends to roast you alive.”
Rowan had brand-new shiny shackles that had been forged just for him, steel chains that clanged on the floor of the transport truck when he moved. They were long enough to allow him plenty of mobility, but solid enough to make it hard to actually move. It was beyond overkill. Just because he had a knack for slipping free did not make him the escape artist they thought he was. All of his previous escapes were due either to someone helping him or the incompetence of the people detaining him. He wasn’t exactly going to bite through the chains and kick open the steel door – yet everyone acted like he was an otherworldly beast with superhuman, supernatural powers. But then, maybe that’s what Goddard wanted people to think; because if the creature you captured needs to be chained and locked in a steel box, you must be one