This isnt your business, my lord, one of the men panted.
I dont like seeing corpses in the road. Only a week ago, Edmund had lay in the street, his blood pooling between the cobblestones. The sword that had pierced Edmunds chest had belonged to John. They had been as brothers not long before. Bram had seen it all unfold, stood in horror and watched as one of his good friends killed the other. Afterward, he envisioned the scene over and over, and every time, he was unable to prevent the outcome. Edmund dead at Johns hand.
This , at least, he could stop.
Theres two of us, the other man said. One of you. It could be your corpse in the street.
Bram stared at them, unblinking. He raised his sword. One blade is all I need to spill your blood. If he couldnt stop these brothers from fighting, then by God he would make them sorry for challenging him.
The mens gazes moved to the scar that snaked down his throat. His daily reminder that hed faced death, and survived. Bram was not easy prey.
Whatever the brothers saw in his face and stance, they didnt care for it. Eyes wide, cheeks ashen, they both dropped their knives, then turned and scuttled away like roaches.
He waited a moment. Sheathed his sword, and walked on. Yet the seething fury within him continued to burn, stoking him, his whole body alight.
Where Bram went, he didnt know. Only that all around him, the city seemed in chaos. Here, in genteel Mayfair, more fights churned on street corners. Glass from shattered shop windows glittered on the sidewalk and crunched beneath his heels. A night watchman ran from a mob.
This city is a runaway horse, careening toward disaster. As though something had been unleashed, something dark and wild, gnawing away at humanity, turning everything rancid and ugly.
You know the cause.
He stared at his jagged reflection in a broken window. Pieces of his face stared back. His eyeswhen had they become so cold? His mouthhad it always been this cruel? Or had these changes come over him these past few months, ever since that night at the Roman ruin near his country estate?
It doesnt matter. Nothing matters.
He stalked on. His steps slowed when he discovered himself standing outside the Marquess of Colfaxs mansion.
A smile curved his mouth. Several months ago Bram had challenged the other Hellraisers to a shooting contest, and theyd shot off the finials on the marble balustrade. Leo had been the winner, and theyd gone to celebrate his victory with a cadre of opera dancers and smuggled French brandy.
Bram now walked close and placed his hand on the chipped stone. The marble finials still had not been replaced. Neither had the memory.
The front door to Colfaxs home opened. Bram stared as Colfax himself came charging down the steps. Uncharacteristic rage twisted the marquesss face. Hed always been the most genial of menBram had once accidentally spilled wine on Colfaxs velvet waistcoat,
and the marquess had actually apologized for being in Brams wayyet now the older man barreled toward him with fury in his eyes.
You think I didnt know? You think I didnt see? Colfax jabbed his finger into Brams chest. The lot of you, despoiling my property and laughing. Laughing! I watched the whole thing, and I didnt do a damned thing to stop you. But I wont tolerate it, dye see? Not any longer. The five of you will pay!
The shock that had held Bram immobile snapped. Anger surged. Here was another sign that the world had gone mad. The five Hellraisers were no more, their friendship razed, and lunacy gripped the city. He still woke, sweat-drenched, from dreams of past madness, the shouts of dying soldiers and Indian war-cries ringing in his ears. And here they were again, his old demonsdeath, chaos, brutality. No matter how fast he ran, he couldnt outpace them.
His hand shot out and wrapped around Colfaxs throat. He didnt care that, as a baron, he was outranked by Colfax. All that mattered was the wrath that blistered within him.
The tirade abruptly stopped as Bram lifted the marquess up so that the older mans feet left the ground.
We shouldve gone on as we had, Bram snarled. But everything changed and fell to ruin. It didnt have to.
Colfaxs eyes bulged as he clawed at Brams hand. His gaze fixed on Brams wrist, and clouded with confusion.
Following Colfaxs gaze, Bram saw what appeared to be a drawing of flames tracing up his wrist and curling up his thumb. Yet it wasnt a drawing. It was the mark of the Devil.
What had begun as a small image of fire just above his heart now encompassed the whole of his left pectoral and down his arm. The flames even traced down toward his abdomen. They grew nightly, and some day, he suspected, they would cover him entirely.
Here then, the reason why everything changed. The Hellraisers had gained their name through their misdeeds, but one night, several months ago, they became Hellraisers in truth.
My fault, all of this.
Shouts sounded from the house as servants came running to aid their master.
With a snarl, Bram released Colfax, then stalked away. He heard the marquess coughing, and the worried murmurings of the servants, wondering if they should call the constable. But Bram put Colfax behind him, and sank back into the night.