Page 27 - TheRedSon_PrintInterior_430pp_5.5x8.5_9-22-2019_v1

steel smiles, filling the air with their glittering laughter and
the blood of my opponent. His strength was conditioned well
beyond ordinary limits, born from the inspired repetitions
his chosen calling exerted upon both his mind and body.
More importantly, our respective might was an extension of
our dreams—and mine was the night terror to his nightmare.
Realizing this as well, he attempted a formidable retreat,
at one point drawing a bladed arc in his wake that nearly
opened my retina. I would have happily allowed him
escape—call it a courtesy between predators—but he was
on my list. Just as he all but escaped into the darkness I’d
stolen from him, my sister left my hand, flying across the
room and finding his spine. His body fell at the feet of its
own shadow, stretching long and twisted by the dancing
candlelight. I stood over him in my new darkness, looming.
His eyes glowed with fury, raging at his unresponsive body,
a broken vessel no longer capable of killing or crucifying. I
let him watch the shadows he no longer commanded fill my
eyes. No words were exchanged, for what was there to say?
Suddenly, from upon my back I could feel a terrible unrest.
My father was awake—his time had come. I lifted my great
forebear from his resting place, swinging him high above
my head, his edged face gleaming with the amber glow of
candlelight. The massive axe passed through the crippled
hunter so smoothly, I thought I’d missed him entirely.

30 | Mark Anzalone