by N. P. Martin
"That’s bloody awesome, Davey," I said as I looked down at my stump. "You wouldn’t believe how much you miss a part of yourself when it’s gone."
He looked at me seriously. "Maybe this was a lesson for you."
"A lesson?"
"Drakkar showed you visions, didn’t he?"
I nodded. "How did you know?"
"It wasn’t hard to work out. Whatever he showed you, I have no doubt they contained much blood."
I was back to being uncomfortable now as I frowned deeply at him. "Were you in my damn head as well?"
"No." He paused as he stared at me a moment. "I don’t need visions to know what your future holds, Corvin. You’re on a dark path now, son, I can see that. A path that will lead to much blood and violence, and even death. But I can also see that it’s a righteous path, though a nonetheless dangerous one."
I stared back at him a moment as I took in what he said. "What does serpent son mean?" I asked.
Davey frowned. "Serpent son?"
"Iolas called me that just before he tried to kill me. He implied that my mother was involved with something that led to her death. Do you know anything about that?"
"No," Davey said as he shook his head, though I couldn’t tell if he was lying or not, or even why he would lie. "I don’t."
I stared at him a moment longer before nodding. "Okay. Just thought I’d ask."
Davey nodded. "Fate has a way of providing us with answers eventually. No doubt it will do the same for you."
"Yeah," I said, thinking of the blood-drenched visions shown to me by Drakkar. "No doubt."
24
Davey said it would take a day or two to perform the Frankenstein procedure of growing me a new hand, so the next day I decided to pay a visit to my parents’ graves at Mount Jerome Cemetery. A taxi took me there and I told the driver to wait on me while I went in.
The weather was beginning to turn. It was a cloudy afternoon with a notable nip in the air, signifying that autumn was just around the corner. Which I didn’t mind because the Rotting Season is my favorite one. All that heat over the summer had become tiresome anyway. I don’t know how people live in places where it’s hot and sunny every day. Personally, I like my weather to be changeable, which in Ireland, it definitely is. As the saying goes, if you don’t like the weather in Ireland, just wait twenty minutes, although the blistering summer sort of undermined that particular saying.
The cemetery seemed different during the day, at least compared to how it was the last time I was here with Davey and Dalia to do a spot of grave digging. It was less ominous in the daylight. There was also no chance of bumping into any ghouls this time, since they’d all be lying up in some dark hole as they awaited night to fall so they could begin their feasting again.
As I crouched down in front of the two gravestones, I felt a sense of peace come over me, partly because of the serene surroundings, and partly because a growing sense of purpose was stirring in me, which is something I hadn’t noticed until now. Before the death of my mother, I didn’t have much of a sense of purpose. I clung to the flimsy idea that I would continue to pursue my music—the thing I loved the most—but that idea didn’t seem to fit with me anymore, not after recent events. Things had changed and there was no going back. Where these changes would eventually take me, I still didn’t know, as I was still figuring everything out, still trying to sort out my place in the world. I just knew that getting justice for my mother, and to a lesser extent for Dalia, felt good. More than that, it felt right.
"It looks like you were right, Ma," I said. "As always. Maybe I am meant for other things after all."
I thought about the visions that Drakkar had shown me. They’d been on my mind ever since they happened and I was constantly turning over their meaning in my head. Most of all, I wondered if my future was set in stone, or did I have the power to change it?
Time will tell, I thought as I turned my attention back to my mother’s gravestone.
"I did it, Ma. I got Iolas, and that bastard Iliphar. I’m not sure you would’ve liked how I did it, but… I did what I had to do. You can rest easy now," I said as my voice cracked a little and tears welled up in my eyes. "I miss you, Ma…"
Wiping my hand down my face, I took a deep breath to gather myself, before staring at my father’s gravestone. It had been twenty years since his death. A long time for someone to be gone, and easy to forget what they were like. My memories of my father were sketchy, yes, but I’ve never forgotten how I felt when I was around him, which was loved, and proud that he was my father.
"It’s been too long, Da," I said. "You deserve justice as well. You deserve to rest in peace as well, and I’m going to make sure that you do." I paused as I set my jaw. "Constantine is going to pay."
I stood up then and wiped the last of the tears from my eyes as a steely sense of purpose expanded in me.
"People think I’m on a dark path," I said, then shook my head. "They haven’t seen dark yet."
The Corvin Chance Chronicles
Book 3
Now Available
Books By N. P. Martin
The Sorcerer’s Creed Series
CRIMSON CROW
BLOOD SACRIFICE
BLOOD DEBT
BLOOD CULT
BLOOD DEMON
Nephilim Rising Series
HUNTER’S LEGACY
DEMON’S LEGACY
HELL’S LEGACY
DEVIL’S LEGACY
About The Author
I’m N. P. Martin and I’m a lover of dark fantasy and horror. Writing stories about magic, the occult, monsters and kickass characters has always been my idea of a dream job, and these days, I get to live that dream. I have tried many things in my life (professional martial arts instructor, bouncer, plasterer, salesman…to name a few), but only the writing hat seems to fit. When I’m not writing, I’m spending time with my wife and daughters at our home in Northern Ireland.
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