Ruin: Revelations by Lucian Bane Page A

Ruin vaguely felt the man-being touching various tattoos. “Centuries deployed in the outer bowels of Hell does that to a poor soul. There you go,” he announced with a soft pat on Ruin’s shoulder, like he’d straightened his collar instead of detonating a diabolical mission inside him. “And her presence is required at this one.”
    Ruin collapsed to the floor and fought to get air, looking around for Isadore. She crouched in a corner with both hands over her face, small slits between her fingers. What would this do to her already fragile psyche? “Why is she required?” Ruin’s words came on ragged breaths.
    Caliber lowered a little, hands on his knees, peering at Ruin. “Because she’s yours .” He said it like an unfortunate deformity he was getting tired of explaining. “You imprinted on her, Padre. What’s hers is yours, what’s yours is hers. I was hoping you two would mesh a little better, but that idea was officially shot to shit the day you put your hands in the cookie jar.”
    “What?” he looked at Caliber, wishing he’d speak with words he understood. “Imprinted?”
    “Like a newborn imprints on the first thing it comes into contact with, Isadore was that being for you. You’re stuck with her. And with every amaaaazing event that enraptures your brain, your powers are hijacked and defined. The mess resembles a pot-bellied pig inflated with an intestinal parasitic disease being poked with a pin. I’ve never seen anything like it, what the two of you make together.” He flicked his finger between them.
    The being before him chuckled. “And to think you had high hopes for him.”
    “Excuse you,” Caliber put his fists on his hips, shoving his coat tails behind him, “but I don’t see a fat lady in here singing yet unless we’re counting that tub of demonic lard you call a pet, Mr. Pilot .”
    The beast barked and it sounded like banging metal in Ruin’s brain, causing even Caliber to wince in agitation and point at it. “Do it again and I’ll find a rogue planet to bury you in after I remove your demonic entrails from that mishap on your face called a mouth.”
    The beast settled down with maybe a growl that amounted to the sound of surf hitting a metal shore.
    “I’m sure I’ll be back with another assignment,” the man-being said.
    “I’m sure you won’t.” Caliber aimed a brutal look at Ruin. “He will be minding his good-boy manners from now on.” Ruin was still too full of questions to speak and he really didn’t want to in front of the one Caliber called Mr. Pilot. Something told him everything he said counted with him. And not in a good way. The man-being turned and casually stretched his hand out, opened a door in the air and walked through a square of darkness, the other beast following until the room stood as though nothing was amiss.
    Caliber let out a huge sigh, walked to the large chair in the corner and sat heavily. “We need to talk,” he announced, his deep voice low and gravelly. Ruin regarded Isadore who came cautiously out of the corner. He held his hand toward her and she regarded it like salvation and latched hers in his. The second their hands connected, he understood what she was to him clearly. She was his. To protect. Shelter. Defend. He wasn’t sure why though, but he was too grateful for that revelation to care about the remainder for now. “The tattoo is red,” Isadore whispered, leaning to look at his torso. Ruin grabbed her hand before she could touch it. He didn’t want her getting close to anything that being was a part of. He didn’t want her near that being in fact. He knew instinctively that he was bad for Isadore. Which made him bad to Ruin. “The tattoo is red because it belongs to the fire,” Caliber said. “It’s time for your next portion of knowledge concerning what’s going down.” They both looked at him and waited, but for the first time, Ruin was not eager to learn. “As you know, you’re a Carnificem. Your job is