A/N: Most of these chapters will be short. I do intend to write more, though.


Dimissor peccatorum


"Syrup of Ipecac" is what the rather old bottle read that Parrish held in the dimly lit bathroom of apartment 306. He shut the medicine cabinet door, poured a small amount into a teaspoon, and stared at it for the longest time.

It had been 2 hours since he had ingested the ink black blood of the horseman. A pure and powerful sin the likes of which he had never taken. A taste of death itself. His body immediately bore its weight. The only thing that ever proved to help was to induce vomiting so that's what he was going to do. But he no longer could simply stick a finger down the back of his throat.

Henry has been through this step many times with the sins he had eaten in the past. It was the only way he could feel better.

Resolutely, Parrish swallowed the foul emetic, then rinsed the spoon off in the sink. It would take a while for the Ipecac to work so in the mean time, Henry went into the kitchen to make a strong kettle of peppermint tea.

The yeasted bread that he had brought with him to soak up the blood sat on the counter, wrapped in a cloth. He baked it himself and used to make shortbread-like funeral cakes with caraway seeds to take on his travels. But that was back when he cared more about the ritual.

Henry went into his bedroom and replaced his comforter with the electrical blanket that he kept in the closet, then he placed some more pillows before fetching a trash can to place at the side of the bed. Two years had passed since he had gone through the old routine.

But now it had all begun again.