Fractured God

She slowly walked inside and her eyes turned to Ezekiel.

“I know you're not gonna believe me but trust me he's the one who tried to kill me and it was necessa-”

Tina walked past Tibaut, sparing him a glance before she made her way over to Ezekiel.

“Thank goodness you're here, sweet young lady, that ruffian suddenly pounced on us, I think he might be apart of the cultis-”

She got on her knees and looked into the grounded Ezekiel’s eyes.

“Is it true?” She asked.

Mr. Bentley started shivering in distress like an abused animal and quickly turned to her.

“Is it really true you worked with the cultists?” Tina asked.

Tibaut turned to her, almost in disbelief at the words that came out of her mouth.

“What the hell are you saying!?” Tibaut shouted. “Ezekiel would never do anything like-”

She raised her hand and turned to him. “Tibaut, let him answer.”

They both turned back to Ezekiel and the man could only sigh. In a sense, it was relieving, almost liberating to not hide it any longer.

“Yes, we did work with them.”

The old man placed a hand on his face and groaned for a few seconds. “I can't imagine our fates will be pretty.” Mr. Bentley added.

“Sorry old man. Hopefully, you croak before the trials are over.”

“You shitty boy of mine, what kind of son wishes death on his father?”

Tibaut couldn't help but stare in disbelief, while it seemed Tina had accepted this information far more easily.

Ezekiel looked up into Tina's eyes and turned his head to his father.

“Actually old man, I feel this is more important. Could you go upstairs, I don't think I want the kid seeing me get all sappy.”

“Well, if this truly is the end, then there's no point trying to fight it off…” the old man said, defeat present in his voice. He turned around like a whipped dog and headed for the stairs.

“You wanted an explanation, correct boy? Then I'll do my best to inform you of what happened.” He slowly put the knife back in his pocket and signalled for the boy to follow him.

Tibaut hesitated and couldn't take his attention off the pair of Tina and Ezekiel. Was this a trap or…

“Tibaut…” Tina softly said. “Don't worry, he's not going anywhere.”

He wasn't sure why, but he felt an almost unnerving sincerity in her voice. Even if Ezekiel escaped he could rest assured it'd have nothing to do with her.

“Alright. Take all the time you need with him… actually, I think the both of us could use some tlc, are there any healers in town?”

“Tlc (Did I mishear him)? No, but I think Bailey should spread the word around and come here soon. There are a few people in town who should know how to treat some wounds. So until that, put some dirt in it and wait.”

Tibaut nodded his head and followed Mr. Bentley upstairs.

“So how'd you find out?” Ezekiel asked.

“You work with a bunch of loudmouths. Especially that woman you work with. Gave her a few shocks and she started yapping like her life depended on it.”

“That so? She did always like to gossip so I guess it isn't surprising for-”

“Why'd you do it!?” Tina asked, trying to keep her voice from cracking. “Why the hell did you work with those monsters, huh, Ezekiel!?” She asked as she raised her voice. Tears started to form in her eyes and she did her best to fight them off.

“So the cult… what the hell did you guys do?” Tibaut asked as he sat down before the desk. They were in his office with the moonlight shining through the window before Mr. Bentley.

He opened a drawer and pulled a cigar out. It looked hand-rolled and was somewhat crude looking.

He held it out to Tibaut.

“Hmm?”

“Light it. I might as well have a good smoke while I'm still a free man, I can't imagine Elizabeth would do the same for me.”

Tibaut produced a flame with his hand and lit it up before getting up and opening the window.

“Sorry, but I'm no fan of smoke.” He said.

“Do as you please, this will no longer be my building.” The old man responded.

Tibaut sat back down in his chair.

“I suppose I should shed some light on our history.” Mr. Bentley said before taking a puff. He blew it forward and watched as it moved back into his face and exited through the open window.

“Do you know that boy used to be a killer?”

“Killer? Like a serial killer?” He asked with raised ears.

“Well, I suppose they're similar but no.” He blew another puff of the crudely made cigar. “A contract killer.”

Over a decade ago in the same building.

“It's a crock of shit I tell you!” Mr. Bentley shouted.

Ezekiel sat at a table with short hair, his feet kicked up at a table. He was listening to Mr. Bentley.

“Uh-huh.”

“Those bastards are trying to wring out more and more! I'm barely making a profit in this shit hole of a parish! Why the hell do we even have a fucking parish building here in the first place if no one is even adventuring here? And that bastard had the gall to call this an opportunity. An opportunity to grow more damned grey hairs!”

Ezekiel nodded his head while looking at the ceiling.

“How many did you lose to other parishes this week?” Ezekiel asked, seemingly disinterested.

“Twenty of the bastards. I hardly blame them, in a parish like this they'd be fools to stay here. We can barely keep people healed, much less offer competent services.”