We partied for two days straight. We used Gustav’s manor, his booze, his food, and his quarters. The whole town was invited. Everyone except the snooty turds that called Pithom Row home. They had to sit inside their sprawling estates and watch the rager of the century while the poor, needy, and hungry streamed into their pristine neighborhood. They stewed in silence, watching while working men and women drank the rarest of Gustav’s private wine collection from gold chalices and crystal flagons.

They were pissed and nothing made me happier. That was justice, too.

The shindig itself rivaled even the craziest barracks parties I’d ever witnessed.

There was singing and dancing, gambling and feasting, debauchery without equal. At least three duels broke out, Gustav’s formal dining room was transformed into a mud wrestling pit, and Arturo even ended up conducting two separate marriage ceremonies. Incidentally, one of the marriage ceremonies took place in the mud wrestling pit. Gustav’s servants were happy enough to stay on and serve, since I promised to double their pay—all taken straight out of Gustav’s generous reserves—and allowed them to eat and drink the food they were preparing.

Gustav had never let the help partake in any of the lavish feasts they spent hours slaving over. He would rather see the leftovers thrown to the dogs then have someone poor eat it.

I spent most of the party mingling with the guest, learning their stories, and consoling those who had lost loved ones at the hands of the Hexblight. But I didn’t just console them with words. Thoughts and prayers are nice, but these people needed more than kind sentiments. They needed help paying for funeral expenses, for food to eat, or money to keep a roof over their heads. But it turned out Gustav had more than enough to go around. Every family effected by the attacks got a generous payout to help cover their living expenses for a year.

There would’ve been more, but a large portion of his fortune was seized by Commander Arendu. Taken to pay the taxes Gustav owed to the crown. I wasn’t a greedy person by nature, but I could see why the magistrate had run his scam. Those taxes cut deep.

Not that I didn’t do alright for myself.

A small portion of his funds went into the Bank of Boyd along with all of the magical items and alchemical components secreted away around the house. Renholm helped me find everything Gustav had been hiding in exchange for a fifteen percent cut of the goods—funds for his court coffers, he said. I was happy enough to pay the pixie, especially since he was like a bloodhound when it came to loot. He found stuff stashed in places I never would’ve dreamed of looking. I ended up snagging a not-so-small fortune in rare fabrication components and alchemy ingredients, which all ended up in my Soul Vault.

Gustav also had an armory complete with spears, halberds, a variety of swords—rapiers, long swords, short swords, sabers, and even a two handed zweihander—as well as some basic armor. None of it compared to what I’d taken off the Hexblight, though. A Sage-Gold Seraphic Affinity Scale, a Sage-Gold Chaos Affinity Scale, and another True Form Transformation Token. But the real prize took the form of a Master Gold-Ranked Helm called, Annelli’s Visage. It was disturbing to look at since it was a replica of the Spirt Mask Annelli had worn, but its abilities made up for the discomfort.

>>

Annelli’s Visage

Type: Light, Enchanted Wood

Class: Master

A terrifying wooden mask with curling rams’ horn which bears the Unseelie Mark of Vengeance. Though the essence of the Hexblight no longer inhabits the Spirit Mask, remnants of its terrible power linger, imbuing the object with preternatural abilities that may be confirmed onto the wearer. Those wicked souls who see it shall tremble and fear, for Wrath shall surely be poured out upon their heads…

Primary Effects:

+10% Resistance Against Unseelie Magic +10% Resistance Against Normal Weapons Verve Bonus = + 1 Point / Ascended Class (Acolyte, Journeyman, Master, Sage, Saint, Fatemarked) +1% Chance to invoke Horrific Vision on contact.

Transformation Effects:

+10% Increased Transformation Time +10% Life Gained from Ravenous Feeding Ability

>>

A portion of Gustav’s fortune also stayed with the house. That bit about turning this place into an orphanage wasn’t a joke. I didn’t need a giant house, especially since I would be on the road hunting down Mortka and executing Bounties given to me by Raguel. No point in having a place like this stand empty when it could do some good in the world. The money would help pay for the staff, teachers, and operating expenses—food, clothes, supplies. All that jazz. But I couldn’t leave a fortune like that to just anyone.

I needed someone I could trust.

Which is why Maggie agreed to come on as the Chief Director of Boyd’s School for Future Badasses. That’s what I called it, anyway. Maggie insisted we go with something a little more “formal” and “prestigious” sounding and not “insane” or “juvenile. So, the Knight Institute for Exceptional Children was born instead. Arturo would also help oversee the operation—teach the kids to read and write, as well as how to handle themselves on a battlefield and off of it. We could give those kids the chance at a better life that Annelli had never gotten.

I’ll admit, it had been tough to convince Maggie to leave behind the Three Chimneys, but we’d hashed out the details in between long bouts of… strenuous adult activity. With the Hexblight dead and the mission accomplished there was nothing to prevent me from burying my face in her cleavage. Which I did. For most of two days. The woman was a monster of a different kind and put even my supernatural Vigil stamina to the test. She was also sweet, smart, sexy, and funny in equal measures. Plus, she had a good heart, even if she tried to keep it hidden.

The generous salary and comprehensive benefits package—I promised a matching retirement savings account—also may have played a small role in her decision.

The polite knock on the heavy wooden doors brought me out of a hungover stupor. I swung my legs over the edge of the mattress and rubbed the sleep from my eyes. There was no sign of Maggie, which meant she’d probably slipped away to clean up or grab a bite to eat.

“Yeah, come on in,” I called.

The door creaked open and Arturo let himself in. I could see his disapproval as he surveyed the room, noting the discarded clothes strewn about and the ample amounts of rope hanging from the oversized fourposter bed in the manor’s master suit. Gustav was a dick, but he had good stuff and better taste. His master bedroom was about a million times nicer than my quarters at the Three Inns. It wasn’t hard to guess why Maggie had picked this room as her own. Another perk of her benefits package.

“Don’t look at me like,” I said, wrapping a blanket around my waist as I stood. “You weren’t always a priest.”

“Just because I’m a priest doesn’t mean I’m celibate,” he said. “I’ve warmed the bed of many a fine woman in my day, but by the gods I thought you too would never stop. And this?” He lifted up one end of the rope. He immediately thought better of it, let the rope fall, and wiped his hand on his cassock. “The noises you two were making… Unnatural. I thought perhaps the Hexblight had risen from the grave.”

“Nope, nothing like that,” I said with a grin. “Just a good ol’ fashion fun between consenting adults. Now, what brings you out here, Padre?”

The smile on his face faltered and faded. The mood in the air palpably shifted.

“About that.” He frowned and reached into one of his voluminous sleeves, fishing out an expensive looking envelope stamped with a red seal. The mark pressed into the wax was the same mark branded against my forehead. “I’ve read it, of course,” he said, handing me the letter. “Thought about burning it but decided that wasn’t my place. Wouldn’t do any good anyway.”

“What is it?” I asked, accepting the letter. “Trouble?”

“Could be,” he replied. “It is a summons, issued by the High Exarch no less. The Citadel of Custodians has become aware of your presence, it seems. Your activities in Ironmoor have not gone unnoticed. They demand you ride to Wildespell—the seat of the Custodians.” He faltered. Lips a thin slash in his beard. There was worry in his eyes. “You’re to turn yourself in for judgement. Leniency will be show if you do so willingly. And if you don’t make it to the Citadel by first snowfall they will dispatch a Fist to… to hunt you down.”

“Judgement? Hunt me down? Are you kidding me?” I asked. “For what? Doing their goddamned jobs for them?”

“It doesn’t say,” Arturo replied. “Such things are above the station of a lowly Arbitrator such as myself.”

“But if you had to guess?” I prodded.

“Impersonating one of the Vigilant is a grave crime, punishable by death. You and I both know you are what you say you are—but they’ve never heard of you. Which makes sense, considering that you are an Inkarnate. But reports of your endeavors here have already reached their ears and I assume they think you’re a fraud.”

“Great.” I sighed. “A bunch of bureaucratic bullshit. Should’ve figured it would be more of the same, even here.”

“You must go, honored Vigil,” he said solemnly. “And you must make haste. First snow fall is a mere three weeks off and the Custodians are nothing to be trifled with. The Vigilante may own allegiance to no king, queen, or nation, but you bow knee to the High Exarch and the Custodians. If you do not heed their commands, they could excommunicate you. Or execute you.”

“They could try,” I muttered. There was always something else, I thought, folding up the envelope and sticking it into my bag. “Any chance you’ll reconsider coming with me?” I asked. “I could use someone like you in my corner.”

He offered me a sad smile then shook his head, beard waggling from the motion. “Would that I could, Vigil. But the church is even less lenient than the Custodians in many ways. My assigned place is here. Besides, these people, they need me, especially after everything they’ve suffered. And you don’t need me. Not anymore.” He clapped me on my shoulder. “You’re a good man, Boyd Knight, and an even better Vigil. You are one to make the world shake, I think. But know that if you ever need me, I am here for you. My chapel is always open to you and yours, and I will oversee your holdings here and make sure no evil comes to it.”

“You’re good people, Arturo.” I paused, knowing I might not ever get a chance to see him again. “There’s one other thing I need to say before I go…” I faltered. “It might not be my place, but what happened to you and your men? It wasn’t your fault. You did the best you could, Padre. We all make mistakes, and sometimes people get hurt as a result. A wise man named Captain Piccard once said, ‘It is possible to commit no mistake and still lose. That is not a weakness. That is life.’ All you can do, buddy, is to live a life that honors their sacrifices. Thank you for everything.”

I paused and glanced back at the messy bed. I was going to miss this place—miss Art and Maggie—but I was also excited to see what else this world had to offer. So far, my second chance at life was shaping up to be even more ass-kickingly epic than my first.

THE END OF VIGIL BOUND BOOK 1