had resulted in
anything but tragedy.
But he was different. This was different. Jane was different. He was doing this out of love,
whereas the examples he read about had been done out of hatred: There had been a murderer that
someone had brought back to use as a weapon, and a female returned to life as an act of revenge.
And there was more in his favor. He healed Butch on a regular basis, drawing the evil out of the
cop when he did his business with the lessers. He could do the same for Jane. He absolutely
could.
With iron resolve, he pushed from his mind the outcomes of those other forays into the Omega's
realm of dark arts. And focused on his love for his female.
The fact that Jane was a human was not an issue, as reanimation was the act of bringing that
which was dead back to life, and the dividing line was the same no matter the species. And he
had what he needed. The ritual required three things: something of the Omega's, some fresh
blood, and a source of electrical energy such as a harnessed lightning bolt.
Or in his case, his fucking curse.
V walked back out to the hall of jars and didn't waste time picking. He took one randomly from
the shelf, its ceramic marked by fine cracks, its color a murky brown, which meant it was one of
the early ones.
When he returned to the altar, he slammed the jar into the stone, shattering the thing, revealing
what it had housed. The heart inside was covered with a black, oily sheen, preserved by what
flowed in the Omega's veins. Though the exact nature of the induction into the Lessening Society
was unknown, it was clear the Omega's «blood» went in first before the heart was removed.
So Vishous had what he needed from their enemy.
He looked at the skull of the first Brother and didn't think twice about using the sacred relic for
what was an unlawful purpose. He took out one of his daggers, scored his wrist, and bled into the
sterling silver cup that was mounted in the top of the skull. Then he palmed the lesser heart and
squeezed it with his fist.
Black drops of distilled evil welled and fell, mixing with the red of his blood. The liquid sin had
magic to it, the kind that ran against the rules of the righteous, the kind that turned torture into
sport, the kind that enjoyed pain inflicted on the innocent… but it had eternity in it, too.
And that was what he needed for Jane.
«No!»
He spun around.
The Scribe Virgin had appeared behind him, her hood down, her transparent face a mask of
horror. «You must not do this.»
He turned away and brought the skull up next to Jane's head. On a fragmentary thought, he found
an odd, reassuring parallel that she knew what the inside of his chest looked like and he was
about to know the same of her.
«There is no balance in this! No price given!»
V removed his jacket from his female. The bloodstain under it, on his shirt, was like a bull's-eye
right in the middle of her chest, between her breasts.
«She will come back not as you know her,» his mother hissed. «She will come back evil. That
shall be your result.»
«I love her. I can take care of her, like I take care of Butch.»
«Your love will not change the outcome, nor your facility with the Omega's remnants. This is
forbidden!»
He wheeled on his mother, hating her and her stupid fucking yin-and-yang bullshit. «You want
balance? A trade? You want to stick it to me before I can do this? Fine! What's it going to take?
You saddled Rhage with his curse for the rest of his fucking life, what are you going to do to
me?»
«Parity is not my law!»
«Then whose is it! And how much do I fucking owe!»
The Scribe Virgin seemed to take a moment to collect herself. «This is beyond what I may gift or
not. She is gone. There is no return once a body has been left fallow as hers has been.»
«Bullshit.» He leaned back over Jane, prepared to cut open her chest.
«You shall condemn her ever after. There will be nowhere for her to go but to the Omega, and
you will have to send her there. She will be evil and you will have to destroy her.»
He looked at Jane's lifeless face. Remembered her smile. Tried to find it in the pasty skin.
He could not.
«Balance…» he whispered.
He reached out and touched her cold cheek with his good hand and tried to think of all that he
could give, all that he
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