“Ah,” she nodded understanding. “The souls trapped there don’t want any interference in their plans for you.”

There was just a flicker of shadow in the distance. My eyes snapped over, and she slowly followed my line of sight.

“Good speed,” she said, smiling nastily, and then sank into the ground like it was water, vanishing in a second.

That kill team coming from the Shrine of the True End was not going to have a good time, running into the one and only Cannibal Jane...

------

He had a big bump on the side of his head, and was sprawled on the floor of this roofless pueblo, but not dead.

I looked at her, pointedly at her gut, which had an additional inch on it, then down at him.

She belched softly and shamelessly. “He’s not a bad kid. I’d probably regret taking him. Got into this gig to provide for his mother and little sister. I can get rid of him, if you like, but his family is going to meet a bad end if I do.”

“Huh.” I glanced at my Bracer, pulled twice on it magically. “Let me get Master Fred here.” I gave her a sly glance. “Didn’t figure you as the Save Your Soul type.”

“I’ve got three new Sinbound who are already screaming and intensely regretting their choices in life, seeing where they are going. I know where this kid is Bound to go... and keeping him alive but non-productive keeps another Pact out of play, right?”

I inclined my head. “You know, a lot of idiots take those Pacts because they think they haven’t got any choice. If word got around that we could now monetize the filthy Pacts and turn them into something productive... well, wouldn’t that be totally screwing them ALL over?”

She gave me a weird look. “Are you asking me to find non-appropriate people to swear Dark Pacts?” she asked in amusement.

I had to laugh despite myself. “No, I think natural idiocy will take care of that. But the more of them you can ‘save’ like this, and turn against what the Patrons of the Pacts want, the more you are screwing with Dark Powers.” I eyed her speculatively. “You don’t get chances to accrue positive Karma much. You might want to grab this one.”

“Huh,” she said thoughtfully, eying the young man sprawled on the ground.

We both turned our heads as Master Fred came walking out of the shadow cast by a half-fallen wall. He looked at the unconscious man in black and brown on the ground.

“This is a soul that might be salvaged.” I gestured at the young Sinbound. “What do you think of recruiting non-irredeemable Sinbound as vivic furnaces?”

He lifted an eyebrow, looked at me, then Topaz, and looked thoughtful. THAT’S A REMARKABLY GOOD USE OF A DARK PACT, he noted. THE AMOUNT OF EXTRA ENERGY A WARLOCK CAN CHANNEL EVERY DAY IS EXTRAORDINARY IN REAL TERMS.

“It’s definitely something we can monetize, then?”

THAT SHOULD NOT BE AN ISSUE AT ALL, he agreed.

“Heal him, and let’s make him an offer.”

-----

Pedro Lopez was like a lot of Mexicans, coming from a poor family, with little education and no prospects in a broken land. His father had been killed when he was younger by a drunken gangster, leaving only him to help take care of his mother and little sister.

Taking the Pact had been an opportunity to take revenge on those who had hurt him and his family, and get trained how to fight, and strike back at those who had oppressed him.

The man who had killed his father had taken an entire day to die, long after Pedro had wiped out every member of his gang.

He knew it horrified his mother to see his black eyes, but she still took the money to take care of Ixazaluoh. His little sister was always sad and happy to see him... happy he was still alive, considering what he did, and sad that it had happened this way.

When the woman’s fist had come towards him, he was certain that his time had come. She moved so fast, so powerfully... he had seen Amazons in action on videos, but, like everything, experiencing it himself, at close range, was something else altogether. He had watched Senior Warlocks getting crushed like children, their guns and Hate not even managing to hit her before they were taken down.

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She had taken out the entire team from the Shrine. No wonder whoever was killing the undead had managed to last all night.

No one was more surprised than he when he woke up. The healing sensation in his head was actually rather painful, nothing like the alchemical healing Potions he had used in the past, shot through with energies his Pact did not much like at all.

He gasped and sat up, instinctively reaching for his Pact... and finding it was not answering him, Sealed off inside him.

He felt the Collar around his throat, gasping at the hostile touch of cold iron as he stared grimly at the three people in front of him.

One was the woman who had taken out his whole team, and he belatedly noticed the Earth-sign in her eyes. Not an Amazon? Pedro was confused, especially given her attractiveness, and then his eyes traveled to the next woman, whereupon he blanched despite himself.

“Traveler,” he breathed, recognizing her instantly. The woman who brought the world the Human tongue.

The woman whose baby boy was inside the Shrine, awaiting an awful fate.

Silver eyes in dark orbs that were not a Sign regarded him with ethereal calm. Moonlight seemed to be playing about her dark hair, a combination of light and dark that made him squirm with the feeling that she was looking right through him. Like the old, cruel gods staring down from the moon and stars...

The Staff that looked like it was made from the bone of a giant, with a human skull whose eyes were burning red Banefire leering down, didn’t help.

And then there was the man crouched in front of him, staring at him.

Four Signs. The black of a Dark Pact. The Silver of the Heavenbound. The blue of the Windbound. The square irises of the Citybound.

Heaven and Hell Pacts. Who among the Warlocks had not heard of this man, with the scars of Hell upon him? The Silent Warlock of Heavenbound Hall was here and staring at him with the cold, judgmental eyes of the Heavenbound.

Eyes that held no fears or regrets when they died.

He swallowed at the strength of the Aura breaking over him. None of his Seniors were as strong as this man. Still tugging at the iron Collar that was interfering with his Pact, he gasped, “What... what do you want?”

He had become a hardened killer, but he felt like a child in the face of this pressure.

I CAN OFFER YOU A WAY OUT.

The golden letters made of Heavenly Wrath hurt his eyes to look at them. He blinked at them a few times in shock, unable to process what they were saying.

“What?” he asked dumbly.

The letters rewrote themselves one by one into the same words. He stared at them, wondering what was going on. He had never heard of Heavenbound offering mercy to Sinbound...

“What...what do you mean?” he asked, finally abandoning clawing at his Collar. Naturally he had no weapons left on him, and even though he knew how to kill with his bare hands, he was remarkably sure any of these three could kill him literally by looking at him too hard. It was a terrifying feeling, knowing all the control he had over his own life was now gone.

The Silent Warlock slid out a dagger from behind himself, which rapidly elongated into a full-length straight sword, like some European knight of old, ebon black with a gleaming silver edge that promised to be able to cut him right in two. He stared at the seven glowing Runes on it: four for Heaven, one for each secondary Pact.

The burning red of the Hellfire was particularly eye-catching against the Stormfire and the crackling voltage of a Citypact, looking like it was spitting and clawing uselessly against the golden flames of Heaven.

PUT YOUR HAND ON MY SWORD, the letters ordered in abrupt, steely fashion. The Sword was buried point-down right in front of him, and Pedro’s hackles rose as it sank into the stone of the ground like it was wet clay.

But under the weight of those eyes, he could do little but obey. His hand trembling, he reached out and put his hand on top of the carven skull of the pommel.

Death!

He wanted to scream, but nothing came out. His mind was filled with death, and things dying at the hand of one man.

Blades. Fists and hands. Bullets. Ridden over with a motorcycle. Crushed under dumpsters. Torn apart or pummeled to death. Dragged and torn apart. Burned in fires. Electrocuted. Dissolving in holy water. Buried under a falling tree. Impaled on stakes and spears and jutting rebar.

So many different creatures, of all levels of strength and power. But naturally the ones that sang out the most were the Sinbound.

Men, and women, like him!

Pedro experienced the death of Pactbound, and their sudden screams of horror as their Pact came for them. There was no honor, no glory, no resignation. Always, always, it was fear, despair, and horror as their Pact woke up and came for their souls!

Every time, regardless of the Pact!

He was going to die, and damnation was going to take his soul forever!

“AHHHHHH!” he screamed, tearing his hand free of the Sword, and scuttling back into the corner, as far away as he could, feeling his hand smoking at the dire rejection of the Sword made to kill people like him, and seething with the power to do so!

He stared at the Warlock Master Fred, the only hand that had ever wielded that Sword, and every Darkbound that had fallen to Fred’s hand was stamped into his mind.

They were just like him; cold, apathetic, ignoring the consequences of their Pacts, doing their jobs or their wills... until they died, and their Pacts truly woke up.

He shivered in fear and horror, the Runes upon his soul pulsing madly at the thrill of his recognition of his fate, savoring his emotions as a prelude of what was to come.

It was no longer a source of power, it was a source of doom! Doom he had given himself to!

I CAN GIVE YOU A WAY OUT.

He stared at the words again, trying to keep his mind and emotions intact. So much death, and if he did not do this right, he was going to die... die, and his Pact would take him!

He knew he would do almost anything for that not to happen.

“Why would you do that?” he found himself whispering, not daring to hope.

I WOULD SAVE YOUR FAMILY.