America's most eligible bachelor had been sitting on the sofa across from me for almost an entire hour.

Daniel Fairchild was a handsome charmer of intermediate height with a freshly cropped mop of gelled hair and a stubble covered jawline. He was the front man of a highly successful pop band and had recently been in a summer blockbuster hit. I hadn't seen the film, but I could only imagine he'd appeared half-clothed in front of some sort of explosion, not bothering to look back. 

Of course, if the public knew he was the soul-sucking Sin of Greed and was impervious to explosions, they wouldn't be nearly as impressed. 

Greed made his living duping naïve mortals such as myself. He played upon our hearts, upon our emotions and, in that regard, he was exceptional. It couldn't be an easy task to avoid unwanted scrutiny when he'd placed himself in the spotlight. The first time I'd seen the man in person, I'd been star struck and speechless, unable to believe that Daniel Fairchild was in my home, let alone that he was an arch-demon.

In the eyes of an ignorant human, Daniel was beautiful and awe-inspiring. In reality, when compared to his brethren, he was...less than spectacular.

Among his kinsman was the Sin of Lust, a woman who went by the name Grace Amoroth. The inimical Sin was the CEO of a multi-billion dollar conglomerate called Klau Incorporated, part of Klau Incorporated Industries, or K.I.I. Amoroth had the posture of a monolith and the attitude of a savage wildcat. She could snap her fingers and bury or buyout empires. The world's economy rode upon her coattails and she couldn't care less.

The Sin of Envy was the demon of every person's nightmares and the mere mention of his name caused those of his ilk to flinch. Balthier was an Original Sin, which meant he was the first of his kind and had been alive for more millennia than I could conceive. I'd encountered him twice: the first time in a warehouse where he'd stabbed me after a cult of maniacs had summoned him, and the second time at my workstation in Klau Incorporated. I'd barely escaped the monster with my life.

The last of the other Sins I was acquainted with was the Sin of Pride, and he was...baffling. Terrifying. He didn't have the prestige Daniel wielded, Amoroth's influence, nor Balthier's power—but Darius was an Original Sin who defied death and definition. He was a red-eyed creature who could not be denied.

He was also my Sin.

Compared to them, Daniel's glamour was banal, almost drab, and his superficial exterior belied the weak, relatively young Sin he truly was. Daniel bowed to the authority of his betters, and behind their back he thumbed his nose and pretended he was someone worthy of their respect.

I used to pity him. I'd once told Darius he should show the younger demon more regard—but now I wasn't certain the snobbish millionaire actually deserved Pride's esteem. He bowed when required, but sneered as soon as Darius looked away. His duplicitous nature rankled my intuition.

After trying to eject the creature from my house for an hour, what dregs of sympathy remained had turned to irritation. 

Daniel had appeared on my leaf-strewn porch a few minutes after two in the afternoon. I'd answered his curt knocking and had asked what he wanted, to which Daniel had stated he wished to speak with Darius. When I'd informed him that Darius wasn't here and had tried to shut the door, Daniel had flung it wide and had thrown me into the wall.

The Sin had been sitting on the sofa with one leg crossed over the other ever since. He refused to answer any questions and refused to leave until he spoke with Darius.

I leaned on my fist as I glared and imagined all the reasons why Daniel could possibly be here. The Sin ignored my scrutiny in favor of his phone, swiping his thumb across the polished screen. The afternoon sunlight spilled through the front window to glow upon the champagne blazer thrown over Daniel's blue V-necked shirt. Platinum glittered around his manicured fingers.

"He might not return tonight," I told him for the umpteenth time as I picked at the armchair's worn covering. "He sometimes doesn't come back from—." From wherever the Sin of Pride disappeared to when he didn't need to kill nasty cultist. Whenever I asked Darius what he was up to, he simply said "searching."

Searching for what, I had no clue. 

Daniel continued to ignore me, though I noticed the way his slender eyes twitched.

"If you left a number or an address, he could call or visit you when he returns."

Nothing.

Irked, I hefted a ratty, well-loved paperback copy of The Divine Comedy and threw it at the Sin's head. My aim was atrocious, but the sudden flutter of papers whipping by his ear was enough to jerk Greed's livid attention from his phone.

"Don't ignore me, Danyel," I snapped. "This is my home, not Darius's."

"Don't speak to me so informally, mortal," he retorted, effectively evading my unsubtle demand for his departure.

Scoffing, I rose from the armchair to retrieve the thrown book. "I'm not impressed. You may be much older than me, but you're still a baby compared to Darius or Amoroth." 

The phone snapped in Daniel's hand and his arm shot out as he grabbed my elbow, startling a gasp from my lips. "I may be young," Daniel hissed as his fingers pressed into my skin. Though his touch burned, the house had grown noticeably cooler. "But I'm immortal, and you're just a dying girl not worth my effort to kill." 

I slapped him. My hand collided with his rough cheek and broke the tenuous influence he had over the climate. For a second, Daniel was flabbergasted. His eyes widened as he gaped in speechless surprise. 

"Get out of my house."

His shock passed. The Sin's fingers tightened with bruising force as he readied another verbal barb—but the front door opened and Darius walked inside.

I found it difficult to describe the Sin of Pride. Outwardly, he was a taller than average man dressed in the antagonistic style of a trendy punk renegade. His hair was always neatly coiffed after he washed, but became a roguish mess within minutes. It was a deep, almost colorless carmine, black in anything but direct sunlight. A stony mask always arrested the Sin's features, hiding his thoughts and all emotions but the aspersive discontent etched into the fine lines of his face.

His eyes were a vivid, unrelenting crimson. 

"What are you doing here?" Darius said as he shut the door behind himself. I noticed he held two texts in his left hand.

Daniel released my arm and rose, tipping into a sharp bow. "Apologies, my lord."

I rolled my eyes as I rubbed the bruises forming on my elbow.

Darius carefully paced the living room's perimeter, his vivid eyes darkening as his gaze flickered first from Daniel's fidgeting hand to my arm. "I don't want your apologies, Danyel," the elder Sin said, enunciating each word with evident threat as he took his favored position in the armchair I'd abandoned. "I want an explanation as to why you're here."

Danyel dipped into another supplicating bow. I went to retrieve Dante's book, then found a place to lean upon the wall and watch the interaction between the two Sins. Daniel clearly wanted me to leave, but Darius took no notice of my presence.

"I did as you bid," Daniel began, fidgeting with the two halves of his phone still in his possession. "I followed him, when I was able."

Darius twisted his hand in a lazy, circular gesture, motioning for Daniel to get to his point.

"He went into the Realm. He released Sethan."

The Sin of Pride stilled. A sudden chill broke the afternoon's heat and stole my breath. I knew, given time, frost would gather upon the window panes and the floor, regardless of the welcoming sunshine filtering in from outside.

"Wait," I said, my brow wrinkling in confusion. "Sethan is dead. Isn't...he?" 

Daniel scoffed as he glanced in my direction. "Of course not. He's been detained by Balthazar for the past century."

I was certain Darius had told me his brother was dead—but then I remembered his exact phrasing had been "He is beyond my reach." Is this what he had meant? Had Sethan been imprisoned?

"Balthazar?"

"Envy," Darius clarified, lifting his feet to perch upon the armchair's seat as the house continued to grow colder with the Sin's displeasure. "Envy has released my brother from his prison within the Realm of Sin. I knew it would happen eventually, but I could't have predicted he would do so now."

"Yes," Daniel interjected before I could question further. "He did so this morning. It was difficult to follow him there, seeing as I couldn't—."

"Shut up," Darius snapped. With the grace of a large jungle cat, the Sin dropped from the chair and began to pace. "Something's changed. If Envy is acting out of his typical pattern, then something—."

Darius froze. His glare snaked from Daniel toward the newly repaired door, then to me.

Greed cleared his throat. "I think he confronted Grace—."

"I told you to shut up." Pride rubbed his face as bloody color bloomed within the depths of his dark eyes. "She must have told him about us. About you being alive." The latter portion of his statement was directed to me.

I choked, a chill spilling along my spine. "Amoroth? She wouldn't have betrayed us like that...." My voice was firm, but quickly lost strength. Would she? Sometimes I believed I knew the Sin of Lust, that we had some form of understanding between the two of us—but at other times, the woman proved herself to be utterly unpredictable.

She'd once thrown me off a roof, after all. That defined unpredictability.

"If it suited her needs, she would betray us in an instant, Sara." Darius swore as frost steadily built upon the walls and the shadows writhed in the room's recesses. Daniel was motionless, like a timid mouse waiting for a hawk to pass it by. "I'll kill her for this." 

"I don't understand," I told Darius, hearing Daniel mutter that's obvious. I shot him a withering glare as I continued. "Why would Balthier release your brother if he had learned I was still alive? I mean, isn't letting Sethan go a good thing?"

Daniel made a sound of disgust. "Sethan is the Original Sin of Wrath and he's utterly mad. He was caged by Balthazar in the Realm almost a hundred years ago, and hasn't been let out since. It'll be a marvel if the madman doesn't kill us all."

A crack resonated through the air as Darius abruptly lashed out. Daniel yelped and crumpled onto the rug, clasping a hand to his busted nose. I hadn't seen Darius actually strike him—his motion had been much too swift—but the naked fury in Pride's eyes was unmistakable. His upper lip curled over his vicious teeth.

"My brother may be mad, but you will treat him with the dignity he is due." Darius loomed above the downed Sin, wiry frame bathed in the orange effulgence of the late afternoon sun. His foot shifted until it covered Greed's splayed hand. "And Danyel?"

The bleeding Sin looked up. Darius stepped down until I heard bones pop and Daniel grimaced in pain.

"Lay a hand upon my host again, and you won't have to worry about Sethan killing you; I'll do it first. Get out."

He didn't need to be told twice. Danyel vanished in a rush of turbid soot and fire, leaving nothing behind but a few dappled spots of blood upon the rug.

"Darius," I said as I pulled my back from the wall's support. "What does this all mean? If Balthier knows I'm alive and you rescued me—." Then we were in trouble. Verweald was already unsafe with the green-eyed monster perusing its blood-soaked streets, but if Balthier's attention was solely focused on finding Darius and me, we were in mortal peril.

Scarcely a night went by without my dreams being plagued by Balthier's sneering countenance. I remembered the way he had caressed my sister's face after the cult had cut her throat—and how, moments later, he'd driven a dagger into my side. His voice often invaded my night terrors, warm and congenial, dripping poison and dangerous, deadly intrigue.

I shook myself when I realized my hand had drifted over my wounded side.

"We need to leave Verweald," Darius muttered distractedly, running his thumb along the spine of the text still held in his grip. "Now."

I huffed. "You said the same thing last week after—." After we killed Mr. Strauss. After I told the Sin our contract was complete and I requested he kill me. After Darius had refused and promised to end Balthier.

"I know what I said," Darius grumbled as he shed whatever reverie had claimed his thoughts. "But if Envy's released my brother, he's ready to escalate the situation. Sethan is not in his right mind and will do whatever Balthier bids him to." Darius used his free hand to pinch the bridge of his nose as his eyes squeezed shut. "Sethan's ability to track others is unparalleled among my kind."

Marvelous. "How did Balthier manage to hold your brother?" I asked as I laid my hands upon the sofa's back. Only a few feet separated the Sin and me, but I felt safe in his presence—as mad as that assurance was. "How does one imprison a creature capable of melting through walls and worlds?"

How does one capture an Original Sin?

Darius's mouth twitched in aggravation at my usage of the word creature, but he did not object. "It's...complicated, and we must be brief. Tell me, Sara: do you understand what our...diets typically consist of?"

I nodded. As much as I tried not to think about it, I knew Darius lived off the energy he siphoned from claimed souls. A witch named Saule Ozlin had informed me that this energy was known as mana, and it was what fueled the Sins. "Souls."

"Human souls, to be precise. Can you imagine what happens when we consume, say, a mage's soul? A witch's?"

Frowning, I shook my head. "Indigestion?" Darius had always said he and his brethren avoided others of the preternatural community, including witches and mages. Confrontations between their species tended to be volatile and to leave a grisly trail of destruction behind.

"We, potentially, gain elements of their abilities. It's a risk. Every time we approach a being capable of identifying what we are and defending themselves against our presence, we take a sizeable risk." Darius dropped the two books he was carrying onto the coffee table as he fought the urge to pace again.

"But, if a Sin is willing to bargain with their life, they can take the soul of a supernatural and gain...perks, if you will. Amoroth is a prime example of this practice. She's gained remarkable influence through the consumption of rogue mage souls. She's sensitive to the existence of certain energies within her vicinity, and her awareness can be eerily...prophetic.

"Imagine if one of us was to consume something infinitely more dangerous and thus infinitely more powerful than a mage or witch. What do you expect would happen?"

I considered the Sin's words. I had not been aware of these perks before, but they made considerable sense as a human's mana was paltry and thin. It was a safe, unfulfilling meal, and Amoroth was an insufferable ladder climber: if there was potential in moving ahead, she would do anything—sacrifice anyone—to do so. I did, however, find it difficult to believe she would risk her own life.

I also found it difficult to believe she had betrayed us. She'd thrown one of her own kind under the proverbial bus.

"I'd think the gain would match the risk," I replied, watching Darius gather various volumes and tomes he'd scattered throughout my house. I'd tried to read them to deduce what the Sin had been doing lately, but many were in languages I couldn't read. The rest were simple children's fairy tales, and I was convinced Darius had left them there to mock me.

The Sin nodded once. "Balthier has one of these potent attributes. He can construct...wards, transparent walls of energy—specifically, his ability is to construct a ward Sins can't pass through. He stole the ability from the soul of a loa spirit."

My brow rose. "Loa spirit? As in vodon? Or voodoo?"

Darius waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. "Yes."

"But what—?"

"Sara." Darius stopped sorting his books to fix me with a haggard, aggravated stare. "We don't have time for me to indulge your curiosity. Pack a bag. We must go to the airport."

My next sentence was forgotten in an instant as I blinked at the Sin. "Airport? Where are we going?"

"England." Another text landed on his pile.

"E-England?!" I stuttered, incredulous. "I can't go to England. I don't have a pass—."

"Do you honestly believe that's going to be a problem?" Darius snarled as he smacked the coffee table. His sudden vehemence caught me by surprise. "We have to leave, Sara! Now!"

The Sin of Pride lifted his gaze to the front window and the light shone upon his rigid face. The mask he presented to the world shifted just an inch or so, revealing an uncharacteristic gleam in Darius's eyes and a sudden pallor to his tanned skin. Fear swirled below Darius's lithic front, fear that was deep-seated, ugly, and undeniable.

Darius had once softly imparted that he loved his brother, as much as he is able to. I wondered when that love had become such fervid terror.

The emotion was gone in an instant, hidden from my prying eyes once more. Darius grunted as he stood and fumbled for the pair of wayfarers hanging from his collar. "Pack." He reiterated. "I will return shortly."

The Sin of Pride vanished in the same manner as Danyel, and I sighed at the subtle aroma of smoke lingering in his passage, wafting my hand through the air as I muddled over the mire of questions he'd saddled me with. Sethan was alive, and coming after us. Balthier was capable of trapping his own kind—and Darius and I had to flee Verweald thanks to the city's treacherous mistress. I wouldn't forgive Amoroth for her deceit.

I rounded the sofa. One of the new books Darius had walked into the house with rested atop the others in his small pile. Lowering my arm, I lifted the tome toward the light so the worn title would be readable.

"Ragnarök: The End of Days, English Translation," gleamed in the dying sunlight.

That didn't bode well.