The scars were new, but the mask was familiar. Callum had seen it before in pictures. Had heard it described. A mask worn to cover the scars of an explosion that had almost killed the wearer. A mask worn to terrify.
A mask worn by the Enemy of Death.
“Callumum Hunt,” said the Enemy. “I was hoping it would be you.”
Whatever Callum had expected the Enemy to say, it wasn’t that. He opened his mouth, but only a whisper came out. “You’re Constantine Madden,” he said. “The Enemy of Death.”
The Enemy moved toward him, a swirl of black and silver. “Stand up,” he said. “Let me look at you.”
Slowly, Callum pulled himself to his feet and stood facing the Enemy of Death. The room was almost silent. Even Chaos’s whimpers seemed faint and far away.
“Look at you,” said the Enemy. There was an odd s
