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... he was lying there still without a movement.

"Hey, Joseph," Irish called him while patting him gently.

"We never met as a child," Joseph replied slowly.

Irish was at a loss as she heard this from Joseph.

Reaching out, she touched the scar in his arms, and when she was looking at it carefully, Joseph opened his eyes abruptly. He clenched her hands and then kissed gently, interrupting her from looking at it.

"You said that this scar was left when you saved ...

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“Now… where should I put you both?” he asked casually, not expecting a reply. “It’s regretful that I only have one chandelier.”

“Underneath my bed? No, no, too dirty. My dust bunnies don’t deserve this,” Atticus mused to himself. “The mantlepiece? How about the vanity table? I suppose if I lop off one of your heads I could mount it over… Wife, which head do you want to stare at while you do your hair?”

“Atticus!” Daphne screamed. “I don’t want any heads! Let them go.”

“Fair enough.” Atticus shrugged, and flicked his fingers.

There were two identical cracks as both necks snapped at once.

Daphne gasped, horrified. This man, her husband, had just killed two men with a flick of his finger, as though he was snuffing out candles.

“I told you to let them go!” Daphne cried out.

“Yes, I let them go,” Atticus said. Then, his eyes darkened. “To receive divine judgment from the heavens.”

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