How to Make a Sinner Sleep

96 | doll; daylight delusions

Shadows came to play under the moonlight, hidden by towering buildings and the whispers of the town's chatter. In the clear night, a slender man stood indifferently over a sprawled body.

Blood splattered against the streets, to be overlooked and ignored by morning. It was better to play ignorant and unseeing than to report the blood stains.

Another traitor under his boots.

The man quietly wiped away the blood, lifting it briefly to the skies as moonlight reflected off the gleaming blade, making the red appear brighter.

With a swipe of a cloth, the silver metal gleamed cleanly. He flipped the blade and drew it into the sheaths that hung loosely around his hips, footsteps feather-light as he strode through the streets.

His job was to kill—not to clean up after the mess.

He took another step closer to the main streets. Obscured by the shadows of the alley, a light jingle of laughter filled the air and a girl ran to the sidewalk, bending down to pick up a flower.

Her hair, skillfully tied into elaborate two braids. She carefully upturned the flower by its roots, digging into the dirt and stone.

The man, dazed, took a step forward. The tip of his boot grazed the lit up street, escaping the darkness. Then, his entire body was roughly yanked back into the shadows, back down the alley.

The man purposely went limp, allowing his body to be pulled back.

His companion sighed irritably, running a hand through stark red hair that burned like a raging fire, or the splatter of fresh blood. A black object darted across the street, leaping at his face as he choked.

He pried off the defensive animal—a beast that resembled a cat.

"Meow!" exclaimed the small animal bitterly as it jumped off the red-haired man's face, leaping onto the opposing shoulder.

The quiet man caught the feline as it looped around his neck, purring in low vibrations pleasantly. He fiddled with the swaying tail that curled around his wrist with satisfaction.

"Like cat like owner." mused the red-haired man. "Both moody. What were you thinking, walking out there? Being caught would do you no benefit, unless you had some secret scheme that I would rather like to be let into?"

He continued talking to himself, seeming used to a lack of response. The man kept jabbing the other, as if attempting to twist the indifference into anger.

The pair returned to the castle to report their successful mission. The quiet one simply strode off to his room wordlessly, ignoring the eager greetings of a young, beautiful man with a bed of silky curls atop his head.

The red-haired man crudely thrust the doors open to the study room, waving casually at the newly appointed guard.

"Come on, Reed. Is this really what you wanted?"

Reed scowled, looking up. "Are you here to complain again, despite knowing it has no merit?"

"He barely talks, barely eats, he's hardly more than a shell without a soul. The only time he shows emotion is when he fakes madness to mock those he's killing, or when he flinches from invisible creatures peering in the shadows."

The young guard tensed, his jaw clenching upon hearing the words.

"That puppy of yours—"

"Do you want to save him?" Reed's voice lowered to a chilling cold. "Take him and run—if it's you, perhaps you can temporarily escape my grasp."