Chapter Twenty

The guard paced toward the doors of the chamber. Nervous sweat dripped

from his eyebrow. “She isn’t going to like this,” mumbled Malkus. Hesitantly, he

opened the door. Creeping in slowly, he shut the door behind him and entered.

“Madam,” he whispered, “I have some bad news.” The room had casual,

corporate look with its plain gray walls and ceiling. So, this is where the head of

Spine sleeps.

He had heard stories of the current head and her predecessor. The old head

was very close to this one before he was tried with treason and was given the

proper punishment. There have a few local people who have claimed that the old

head was alive and they caught a glimpse of him. However, the chancellor

assured the traitor was burned to oblivion, and that he, with Jakko, had seen it

with his own eyes.

“What is it,” ordered Malkus’ superior. The current head of Spine was said

to be very heartless. There are tales saying that as soon as word of the fate of the

former head of Spine reached her, she slayed all her coworkers in cold blood.

Then she killed a hundred condemned, human souls. Afterwards, she soaked her

weapons, armor, and even her bare hands in the warm blood, bathing herself in it.

Samyaza “counseled” her to coup with her grief. She was now his puppet. The

crafty chancellor morphed her to become his djinn. His wish was her command.
 “What is it,” she repeated. Her tone was more stressed than before. She

stood up, facing him, and slowly pulled out a revolver. “I won’t ask again,” she

informed him. Malkus hesitated. Her hand began to tighten against the weapon.

With his face filled with fear, he quickly spat out the words, “We have reasons to

believe that angels are in Tartarus.” “Do you realize how farfetched of an idea

that is,” she taunted him. “Yes Madam,” stammered the guard, “but my brother,

Empu, said that he had this hunch and – ” “Your brother,” she sneered, “is a a

lowlife bastard, just like you.” His fists clenched. He bit his tongue. He knew if he

didn’t, it would could cost him his life.

“You’re both pathetic,” she continued, “How did you even become a

guard? You’re following basic hunches. Are you an idiot? You can have a hunch

for just about anything! Hunches are not proof, you dumbass!” “But we found a

note, Madam,” whispered the humiliated guard. “You found a note,” she mocked,

“Yes! That makes perfect sense! They leave you a note when they don’t want be

found, if they are even here.” “But that’s it,” protested Malkus, “It’s like they

want to be found.” “Nonsense,” replied the head of Spine, “I tired of your

nonsense.”

Her hand tightened on the trigger. The guard froze. I am going to die, he

said to himself. However, something unexpected occurred. The hand of his

supposed executioner loosened its grip, and the revolver was set on the table. His

superior turned away from him and faced her table. She began to smile. “You’re

hopeless, you know that,” she told him. The relieved guard, too, began to smile,

answering, “Yes Madam.” Out of nowhere the head of Spine spun around faster
than lightning, literally, and shot out her dagger. Within the second, Malkus felt a

sharp jabbing feeling in the center of his throat, and he collapsed to the cold hard

floor, flooding it with crimson. “What a waste of a perfectly good blade,”

commented a voice originating from one of the dark corner.