by Russ Linton
Sirens sounded closer, tires screeched in the parking lot, and lights strobed against the empty sky. Araceli checked the stars, making calculations.
“Eustace,” Kitterling said, the British accent coming back and his eyes finally leaving the sword. “I’m afraid I’m out of ducats for your legal troubles.”
“My legal troubles?” I laughed. “It’s your hearse in the parking lot.”
Kitterling’s eyes got wide and he began to sputter.
“Give me a minute, I’ll get us out of here,” Araceli said.
She dove into her satchel and went to work. This was the real deal, none of the prison alchemy she’d coached me through in lock up, and she’d come prepared. Kitterling offered up his house key when she asked. There was plenty of shaman’s blood around. Mine. Atofo’s. Wax impressions came next. An alloy of mercury. I got ready to haul Atofo’s body through with us.
“Does it work if the door was destroyed?” I asked Araceli.
“Destroyed?” Kitterling finally broke out of his sputtering for round two. “What do you mean destroyed?”
“Only one way to find out,” she said.
Emergency lights filled the portcullis, slicing through into red and blue squares on the grass. We gathered around the chapel door where Araceli readied the key to zap us back to Kitterling’s. Her head dropped as she gave one last look at Atofo.
No more patrons in my chest, I saw things clearly now. “You were right. The sacrifice was going to be one of us. Had to be. Kibaga wasn’t an option. I could’ve been the one, or you. But Atofo...”
We’d have time for fights, for mourning, and all that, later. Right now? I had a friend to put to rest and a letter to write. Then I was going to get that cure and save the world, or whatever. In that order. My order.
DEAR IZAAK,
I lost a friend today. He wasn’t the kind of friend I’d want you to have, but he’s the only reason I can still write these letters to you. And once I finally see you again, he’ll be the only reason for that, too.
We did him right by his people. They had certain rites, ones he’d missed out on. I made good, though it might’ve made some people mad. By his tradition, see, when a chief died, they put him in his house with all his belongings and burned it down. So that’s what I did.
He lived a long life. Longer than you know. He had a foot in two worlds, something you’ll need to understand no matter if you get mixed up in my troubles or not.
You’ll lose friends. I wish I could say you won’t. Doesn’t even always take people getting mixed up in things they shouldn’t. Sometimes, fate or whatever demands a sacrifice. Might make sense and be for something, it might be for nothing at all. Best you can do is to have lived your life for something better. And I’m not talking about money or cars or even the ladies. Live your life with purpose. One you can be proud of.
Right now, that purpose for me is you. I’m gonna save the world for you, Izaak. I’m gonna be coming home.
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Copyright
This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialog are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Grave Sacrifice – Ace Grant, Demon Slayer Book Three. Copyright 2020 by Russ Linton. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used without written permission except in case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
Edited and Written by - Russ Linton
Cover Art – Warren Designs
Design - Russ Linton