Chapter forty three
The visitor grinned and gestured for him to sit. Which he did, quite slowly and cautiously.
"I'm Zuma," he explained, "and you are?"
Weird name…
Isaac took mental notes of these points with eyes narrowed at this _Zuma._
"I'm Isaac," he tipped his head. "Isaac Ramiro. And what exactly would a wealthy young man like you be doing I a wrecked up tavern?"
The demon of speed gave a shadow of a smile, taking his eyes to the _older_ man. Of course, demons didn't age even in a millennium. "I've heard about your clean deeds. And scotch."
The tavern owner cast him a suspicious glance that last no longer than a moment. "What clean deeds er ya blabbering about?"
"Oh you're one of the most notorious criminals in the world," shrugged Zuma nonchalantly. "And it's said you are a near perfection…"
"I am perfection itself," Isaac barked like he'd just been insulted. "So, what er ya want? I name my token!"
Well, this was far easier than he thought. But the feeling of sitting in the midst of the mortals still tore at his chest in a way he comfortably shielded.
"Have you ever heard of Decresh?" The demon of speed chose to take things a little bit faster.
He received a choking snicker from the other man. After Isaac had his fill of it, he wiped some sign of tears from his eyes and replied. "Decresh? Even the deaf have heard o' the great solid Kingdom. Ruled by an overly young King rumoured to be the devil. What businesses you got there, mate?"
"Oh you see that overly young King you speak of," said Zuma. "I have a bit of a problem with his elder brother if you know him…Martin Tonnel."
Isaac nodded and could comfortably make out what he wanted from here onwards. "You want the lad dead, aye?"
"I'd prefer you term it asleep."
"That'd be two hundred silver pieces."
"I'll give you four hundred."
Isaac studied him. Instead of a red flag to rise, the more greedy part of him wanted to take this job like he'd never taken any other.
Four hundred silver pieces.
At the thought, the rare, solemn part of him dominated and he narrowed his eyes. "State your terms."
Zuma gave a satisfied grin and finished the liquid in his cup. Next, he leaned closer to the mortal and tapped upon the counter. "Abduct him first of all to somewhere you're sure even God won't know. When you do what I pay you for, you could send his corpse over to his people. If I'm impressed with the severity of death, I'd make it five hundred silver pieces."
Isaac Ramiro snickered again, although unbelievably this time. One thing was for sure; this Zuma lad would do anything for this job to hold positively. And at the thought of five hundred silver pieces shingling in his pockets, he would do anything as well.
***
For the past two days, he'd been wondering where he'd gone wrong. Certainly, God had led him to find Abraham. But was there something he wasn't understanding?
Was he not supposed to kill the djinn?
Here he was in one of the dark, putrid dungeons in the palace. This couldn't be where God wanted him.
But something else had happened. Something relieving.
He hadn't seen the djinn or any of his nightmares since he came here. It was the first time in almost twenty years he'd had a good night's sleep. And he hadn't yet killed the King.
Meaning he was here for some other purpose.
The Priest was undoubtedly terrified that day, but he had not failed to notice the coexistence between the so-called evil supernatural and his people.
It wasn't all fire or wolves or ember. It was different here. And that was how he came to the conclusion that he'd been wrong all this while.
There was one being he knew could guide his steps. With that in mind, he squeezed his eyes shut and said a silent prayer.
***
Abraham seemed to be having a splendid time. Apart from his conversation with Razia, his lips were busy occasionally plucking grapes from the bunches being fed to him.
All this thought on saving mortality had made him forget how intoxicating women could be.
There were about half a dozen of them about his throne, wearing just what he wanted them to wear. Besides, it was a very hot day.
Speaking of hot, one of the damsels had a large fan in her hands which she swooshed continuously beside him. Another had her perfect hands caressing his scalp almost as good as Razia did it. And let's not forget the one feeding him grapes…or maybe the one at the other side with grilled poultry.
Or the one at his feet cradling his toes upon her thighs.
Forget drinking their blood, there was no better definition of peace than this.
"For the millionth time, Razia," he smiled. "Killing is not always an answer."
The water demon was perfect at disguising the way the women around were affecting her. Did they have to touch him to comfort him?
However, she chose to reply sternly. "But, Your Majesty. The human came in here with the clear purpose of killing you! Why are you still keeping him alive?"
"Because Jeremy asked me to," he shrugged. "Do you have to be so sadistic all the time?"
She rolled her eyes away and ended the conversation, refocusing on the women around the King.
Why did she suddenly feel like a disgrace of a personal guard? A Priest had barged into the empire to kill the King and she had only been a coward towards his dog?
Speaking of Priest…
A guard barged into the courtroom and tipped low in a bow.
"Your Majesty. The prisoner has been demanding to see you since the break of dawn." The man glanced up and met the blue, confused eyes of the King fearfully. "He won't…shut up!"
Instantly, Razia turned his way and placed her grip around her sword, whispering afterwards. "You still want this Priest alive, my King?"
Abraham considered her question while he preened on the guard before him.
The prisoner demands to see him…
He let out a conclusive sigh and ordered. "Bring him in."