Envy (Dark Waters Book 1)

Chapter Four:

1873

Gluttony said everyone experienced nervousness from time to time. Sins were no different. Finding the purest soul as an offering to Him was an honor.

To disappoint him was terrifying.

And that was why I didn't stop walking toward the curly-haired woman. Pride had spotted her that morning; the innocent daughter of a traveling merchant. I'd been the only Sin without a pure soul offering. Pride thought it was my turn.

Nearly a hundred years a Sin, I was long overdue.

"Excuse me, would you care to buy a flower?" The woman stood beside her father's wagon. He knelt inside of it, sorting through bags and boxes. With him distracted and her back to me, this would be easy.

There wasn't a reason to be nervous. The blood would spill, drenching the road red. It wasn't my color, but it was a sight to see.

I slowed my steps, avoiding the pieces of gravel. There were another hundred years before I could fly. Until then, I walked like mortals. Like her.

"Priscilla," the merchant called from inside the wagon, "stop rehearsing your sales and check the horse. If he gets free again, we will be stranded here."

The woman looked at the flower in her hand. There hadn't been anyone around; no witnesses for her murder. But I'd never heard of a "rehearsal" to sell plants on the side of the road. Were roses a lucrative business?

Mortals.

"Sorry, papa." The woman put the basket down on the ground. It splashed mud from the recent rains on her stockings. Noticing the stains, she huffed and wiped at her dress. "I'll get to the horse."

The slight fog worked in my favor. With the on-and-off storms, the sun barely had the energy to break the clouds. With the merchant's traveling store sitting on the side of the road, I knew I could swoop around the wagon and the animal she was ordered to tend to.

With the speed of a Deadly, she'd never see me coming. And her father would curse himself for being inattentive.

'One swipe. Twist of her neck. Avoid the look in her eyes.'

"Papa, Duloc's hoof is caught in the mud." The woman flattened her hand against the side of the horse. "I'll need more than just my hands if you can just—"

"Priscilla, please," the merchant's hands shot up above his head, but he didn't come outside, "free Duloc's foot, and we can be on our way."

When she grumbled, I laughed. Then stopped because the sound echoed. As she turned around sharply to see who was nearby, I pressed myself against a tree.

First mistake. Silence should have been my skill.

But she also made a mistake. She ignored her suspicion, figured my laughter was nothing but the wind, and turned back to her horse.

Oh, the innocent. A life was short-lived.

"All right, Duloc, Priscilla's here—"

As she moved back toward the horse, gently adjusting the straps of his reigns, I slid away from the tree. I rolled my head around my shoulders. My fingers stretched, nails extending, as sinful blood prepared me for murder.

"—I'm going to move your leg, get you out of the dirt, and we can head home."

The horse neighed as I got closer. I saw myself in its dark eyes, reflecting the dim light of the road. Black hair combed back to resemble a nobleman. The scar on my brow had become my signature look. My smirk was clear in the horse's eyes, too.