had nearly torn his foot off. “Son of a bitch,” he muttered as the bandage got wet before he could wrap it up to his ankle.
“It’s going to take a while for these clouds to pass,” another Darkling said, glancing up at the unfriendly sky.
“Did anyone talk to you?” Veliko snapped. The Darkling frowned at him but didn’t respond. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. Tend to your wounds and leave us be.”
Zoltan shot Veliko an icy glare. “No need to be harsh with the boy. We don’t turn on our own, Lieutenant.”
“You should’ve set Ignatius on that stupid witch the moment you killed her,” Veliko spat. “We wouldn’t be in this mess if you had done things differently.”
“Oh, really, Mr. Hindsight?” Zoltan retorted, stuffing his aching foot back inside the pierced leather boot. The rain dissolved some of the dried blood, washing it off. “How the hell was I supposed to know she’d befriended a ghoul and could wield a friggin’ scythe?!”
“You should’ve taken her more seriously,” Veliko said. “She’s clearly a problem now. And the fact that she’s got two ghouls and two Reapers with her, not just Rudolph, is an even bigger problem. And don’t even get me started on that white-eyed weirdo witch lady. She was the icing on the bloody cake!”
Zoltan threw his hands in the air, exasperated. “Well, pardon me, all-knowing Veliko. Forgive me for not predicting the future. Things like this don’t happen very often. Actually, they never happen! All we can do is learn and adjust, not peck each other’s eyes out.”
“I would’ve done things differently, had I been Scholar,” Veliko mumbled, glancing at his hand again. “I would’ve fed the girl’s soul to Ignatius the moment she was torn from her body. Had you allowed Ignatius to be… Ignatius, none of us would be out here right now, soaking up all the rain on Visio.”
“You’re not the Scholar, though, are you?” Zoltan replied. He didn’t seem intimidated by Veliko, but I did spot tiny nervous tics. The corner of his mouth twitching. The vein throbbing in his temple. The signs were barely visible, but they were there. Zoltan worried about his future as Scholar of these Darklings.
If Veliko managed to sow enough doubt among his peers, he could easily stage a rebellion and get rid of Zoltan without drawing the ire of their superiors. “Well, to be fair, you’re not fit to be Scholar, either, given this monumental disaster you’ve drawn us into,” he grumbled.
“I’m the best you’ve got, and only the Whip can say otherwise,” Zoltan said sharply.
The Whip. That had to be their superior. Was the Whip at the top of the pyramid, or was that just another title? How many leadership positions were there among the Darklings? They’d had millions of years to develop and consolidate their organizational structure. We’d been foolish from the very beginning to think the Scholars were the final authority.
Rudolph moved us around, hiding behind different rocks and stumps, unseen by the Darklings as he sniffed the ground, likely catching the scents of his former teammates. I did as Seeley had instructed me, never staying in one place for too long. The loose rocks were helpful, since I could hide like Rudolph. I only needed to hear the bastards.
“Rest assured, I will address this with the Whip as soon as we meet her,” Veliko replied.
Her. The Whip was a female Aeternae. The question of who she was became my primary focus as I analyzed Veliko’s and Zoltan’s body language. They were both tense, but they conversed as politely as possible, considering the amount of hate they harbored for each other.
Looking back over my shoulder, I could see Seeley, Sidyan, Lumi, and Maya standing on the side of the coastal road, watching me. They were only visible to me. The atmosphere was thick and heavy, the rain continuing its persistent downpour—but the tension was undeniable. All the Darklings were angry and stressed. Many likely shared Veliko’s sentiments, though they didn’t voice their opinions. Others seemed to dislike him, but again, they said nothing.
Ghouls growled from the woods. The black guards were bringing them back, and the creatures tugged at their chains. Their crooked mouths were smeared with fresh blood. I froze on the spot while Rudolph hissed at them in their peculiar language. Their expressions shifted at the sight of me, but they didn’t react. Whatever Rudolph had “said,” it seemed to have done the trick. The ghouls knew not to engage me in any way.
Hell,