Chapter 12
Judas walked down the stairs through frigid shadows that hung and leaned. His cold soul reached out to them as though trying to grasp something it knew, something it understood, something it was familiar with. He welcomed the chill, allowed it to penetrate him as he neared the bottom where he was greeted by a conflicting warmth. The warmth reached out, touching his body, his face, but not his soul.
His black soul. His cold soul. His wicked soul.
He turned toward a wide arch and saw Dirk kneeling before the fireplace, stoking a fire. The moment he entered, Dirk rose from his crouch and turned around, again holding a working utensil that could be used as a weapon.
Judas could almost see him wielding it against him.
“I’ve been told to ask about a room. It seems I’ve been invit
