Lover Enshrined Read Free Page B

The Omega willed himself into the air and catapulted what corporeal form he had to the “present,” to the very living room he was in.
    The change in time registered in a rapid aging of the house around him. Wallpaper faded and peeled off in lazy strips. Furniture ratted and became worn in patterns consistent with over two decades of use. The ceiling dulled from bright white to dingy yellow, as if smokers had been exhaling for years. Floorboards curled up at the corners of the hallway.
    In the back of the house, he heard two humans arguing.
    The Omega drifted down to the filthy, wilted kitchen that merely seconds ago had been shiny as the day it had been built.
    As he came into the room, the man and the woman stopped their fighting, freezing with shock. And he got on with the tedious business of emptying the farmhouse of prying eyes.
    His son was returning unto the fold. And the Omega needed to see him almost more than he needed to put him to use.
    As the evil touched the center of his chest, he felt empty and thought of his sister. She had brought forth into the world a new race, a race engineered through a combination of her will and the biology that was available. She’d been so proud of herself.
    Their father had, as well.
    The Omega had started to kill the vampires just to spite them both, but had quickly learned he fed off deeds of evil. Their father couldn’t stop him, of course, because, as it turned out, the Omega’s deeds—nay, his very existence— were necessary to balance his sister’s goodness.
    Balance had to be maintained. It was his sister’s core principle, the justification for the Omega, and their father’s mandate from his father. The very basis of the world.
    And so it was that the Scribe Virgin suffered and the Omega drew his satisfaction. With each death wrought on her race she hurt, and well he knew it. The brother had always been able to feel the sister.
    Now, though, that was even truer.
    As the Omega pictured his son out there in the world, he worried about the boy. Hoped that the twenty-plus years had been easy for him. But that was a proper parent, was it not. Parents were supposed to have concern over their offspring and nurture them and protect them. Whatever your core was, whether it be virtue or sin, you wanted the best for what you had brought forth into the world.
    It was stunning to find that he had something in common with his sister, after all . . . a shock to know that they both wanted what children they begot to survive and thrive.
    The Omega looked at the bodies of the humans he had just laid to waste.
    Of course, that was a mutually exclusive proposition, wasn’t it.
     
    Chapter One
    THE WIZARD HAD RETURNED.
    Phury closed his eyes and let his head fall back against his headboard. Ah, hell, what was he saying. The wizard had never left.
    Mate, sometimes you take the piss out of me , the dark voice in his head drawled. You truly do. After all we’ve been together?
    All they’d been together . . . wasn’t that the truth.
    The wizard was the cause of Phury’s driving need for red smoke, always in his head, always hammering about what he hadn’t done, what he should have done, what he could have done better.
    Shoulda. Woulda. Coulda.
    Cute rhyme. The reality was that one of the Ring-wraiths from The Lord of the Rings drove him to the red smoke sure as if the bastard hog-tied him and threw him in the back of a car.
    Actually, mate, you’d be the front bumper.
    Exactly.
    In his mind’s eye, the wizard appeared in the form of a Ring-wraith standing in the midst of a vast gray wasteland of skulls and bones. In its proper British accent, the bastard made sure that Phury never forgot his failures, the pounding litany causing him to light up again and again just so he didn’t go into his gun closet and eat the muzzle of a forty.
    You didn’t save him. You didn’t save them. The curse was brought upon them all by you. The fault is yours . . . the fault is yours. . . .
    Phury