The reaper held his ground but pointed one of the knives at them. “You are heretics and blasphemers, and in the name of Thanatos—praise be to the darkness—I curse you. Do you hear? Do you possess enough wit to know that the mouth of hell has opened to consume you? I curse you with pain and suffering, with loss and heartbreak. You will never know love and you will never know peace and you will live long years with no darkness to gather you in and give you rest. This I swear in the name of my god.”

“I don’t want to kill you,” said Nix, “but if you try anything, I’ll shoot you in the leg.”

Her voice and her hands shook as she spoke, but Benny knew that she’d pull the trigger if she had to.

Saint John studied Nix’s face.

“So be it,” he said softly, and slowly resheathed his knives. Then he pushed up the sleeve to reveal his left forearm, and with his long right thumbnail he cut a deep red line in his flesh. Blood welled, nearly black in the shadows under the trees. The reaper smeared blood on his fingertips, spat on the blood, and then flicked it at them. It did not reach them, but that didn’t seem to matter to the man in black. His face was alight with triumph, as if what he had just done sealed his threats into the fabric of reality. “May you live long,” he snarled, as if that was the worst thing one person could wish upon another.

Then Saint John of the Knife turned and melted like a bad dream into the darkness that lurked under the tall trees.

Benny and Nix stood there, sword raised, gun pointing, mouths hanging open.

The birds and monkeys were silent in the trees, and the whole forest seemed to hold its breath. Drops of blood glistened on leaves that trembled and swayed. Nix lowered her pistol and began to tremble all over. Benny wrapped his arm around her, but he had his own case of the shakes and wasn’t sure he was able to offer any real comfort.

“What just happened?” breathed Nix, her voice small and fragile. She used her thumb to gingerly uncock the pistol’s hammer and lower it into place. “I mean, seriously . . . what just happened?”

“I—I don’t know,” Benny admitted.

“Did I provoke him? Did I just make it worse?”

“No,” Benny lied. “I don’t think so.”

They backed away from the spot where the man—the reaper—had stood. Then, after five paces, they turned and ran as far and as fast as they could.

Chapter 33

33

THE MAN CALLED SAINT JOHN STEPPED OUT FROM BEHIND A TREE AND watched the two teenagers run away.