Chapter fifty one
Abraham gestured to his allies around him. "Why don't I make this easier for you? Pick any one of my partners; one who you think you have the most probability to win."
The bartender seemed impressed. Steadily, he rounded the counter and came to stand right in front of it, his focus never leaving any of the foes.
Bearing just the right amount of body build enough to intimidate, the smug on his face only helped heighten the dark aura around him. One of those calm yet dangerous ones. He took another swift review of the team. Who looked as soft and weak as a little…child?
His eyes stopped upon Ramiel, the Earth bender and the witch's son, lips stretching into a small smile. "I pick the boy," he replied with a boast of a voice.
Ramiel narrowed his eyes, arms crossed.
While Abraham flashed a grin in approval. But no…maybe he just had to laugh. After snickering darkly with eyes closed, he suddenly drew in a sharp breath. "Of course," he refocused on the man. "But I'm certain if you knew the grievance of what you've just done, you would have picked more wisely."
The bartender suddenly frowned at the boy he'd picked, studying…scrutinizing.
But all he saw was a young, reserved lad who returned a stare as though he was going to kill him.
***
To him, it was all about paying for the job done. Turned out he wasn't at all a blind, old beggar. Vizal stalked upon the cold marbles on bare feet, still somehow perfectly knowing the way to his cabin of wine, blind or not. What was actually real was his taste for drinks. Buy him a whole box of it and he'll swear a year of service to you. One thing his years as a bounty hunter taught him was to live life while you could; you might not know who'll pay heavily one day to have you dead.
Just until he was turned into a mindless, powerful immortal…
After a job well done of following a ruthless chief guard into a small village and acting like a beggar for days, he soaked himself in a tub of hot cleansing water and had tones more of alcohol before he finally felt free from the dirt he'd been sitting in.
Now in the cold confines of his palace of a home, he was smoking the last of his cheroot butt, successfully ignoring the cries from the chief guard he'd abducted who was tied behind him.
When his tolerance limit was finally tugged, he frowned and faced his captive. The younger man flinched backwards at the horrifying sight. It was not everyday you saw a man without eyes glaring at you like he could actually see you.
Where his eyeballs were supposed to be, there was a compressed dome of flesh tainted black. His grey hair fell neatly to his shoulders just upon his grey waistcoat and dress.
Finally, Vizal shrugged and spoke in a baritone of a voice. "I'm sorry if I bore you to death, but that is one easy way to kill you."
"Please, don't. Please…" the man began.
"Please?" The djinn exclaimed the question like it was something unreasonable. "Sparing your life is not an option. I don't get paid for nothing. I can do one thing for you though."
He let time fly by for the needed dramatic suspense. When his captive still gawked hopefully, he then decided there was no better time to shatter those hopes. "I could give you the privilege to choose the way you die. I could…leave you to starve."
"I could…" he continued with a grin, "…feed you to my cats. Or do you want to be buried six foot under and suffocate to death? Anything easy for me goes."
The captive bowed slowly where he sat. As genuine tears trickled down his cheeks, he shook his head, something that was certainly the humblest pose he'd ever been in. "Please no. I know I've done many horrible things. But, I'm sorry; give me one more chance and I'll do anything you want."
"Trusting a mortal's words is the highest form of folly, Vizal," came a voice from somewhere inside his head. Or maybe outside his head.
When he sensed the pitch and familiarity, second thoughts made him turn around and face just the being he'd expected to be there.
"Just get rid of him and we'll go get a drink," the voice of the new man continued with a drawl of temptation. The slowly, he walked to Vizal's side, taking his grey eyes from the old man to the chief guard.
Just to confirm his ears had heard right, Vizal raised a palm to touch the guest's face, running it smoothly across in inspection. "Ozii," he finally announced with a frown of disapproval. "I'd trust any mortal's words over yours anytime, any day."
The thunder djinn may not have cared if he was welcome or not. When the older man turned around and refocused on the direction of his prisoner, Ozii smiled. "I could help you if you still haven't found the man in you."
"Oh, shut your mouth," Vizal growled and stalked to his captive who suddenly felt like a hopeless rag in the mercy of two supernaturally ruthless men. "Well unlike you, killing innocent people doesn't bring peace of mind to me."
Ozii agreed to the comparison quite fine. Nodding, he shrugged later on and began strolling lazily about.
Meanwhile, the djinn of waves clutched the soldier's face in one abnormally powerful grip. A frown formed across his brows, almost like he'd begun struggling with the decision to kill him.
The human never stopped whispering. "Please don't kill me, please." But somehow, it even worsened the battle going on in his mind.
And just from somewhere behind him, like the tenor of his voice echoed from every wall, Ozii began tempting. "It's all because of them our kind was cast down from heaven. All because of them the beautiful world is suddenly an eyesore. And do not forget…" he paused for a while, "…you lost your family because of these mortal creatures."
The last part of his sentence made the old man lose his frown. And a different unreadable emotion replaced it.
Too unreadable his victim swore he preferred the frown.
"Shut up, Ozii," he whispered silently while he strived to concentrate, as much as he knew pigs would fly before the thunder djinn listened.
"Their imperfection showed even from the very first of them," Ozii continued that same tempting drawl, going closer and closer. Mainly because he knew it was working.
Vizal tightened the grip about the jaw of his victim just as the latter began to scream his pleas even when deep down, he knew he was going to die. Either in the hands of his abductor or his distasteful guest.
When the pressure on him became too frustrating, the djinn of waves settled for what his mind wanted; to complete what he'd been paid for.
At the thought, he smashed a hand upon the soldier's chest, making a smile play on the other immortal's face.
The captive's body jerked at the slight contact with the faintest signs of green light spreading out to his entire torso in a series of waves.