Chapter VIII. To the Flood
VIII
TO THE FLOOD
“BELLS RINGING, BOOTS pounding, heart thundering, I ran.”
Gabriel drank from his goblet, wincing at the souring taste.
His face had taken on a familiar, faraway expression, as if he stared into memory and distance both.
Jean-Francois could hear the silversaint’s pulse quickening now, as it often did when he began recounting tales of his battles.
But as always, the historian found himself quickened likesame, as if through the silversaint’s words, he lived those glories too.
I will miss this when it’s over.
And it will be over soon.
“Out from the chateau,” Gabriel said, “across the plaza, toward the Tower of Tears. The square was in uproar, capitaines bellowing for the revelers to get indoors, bells pealing on cold streets and cadres of troops flooding toward the walls. That blighted blood yet pounded within me, the Moonsthrone’s strength in my veins, and I’d not even lost my breath as I barreled through the great spiked doors, past rows of red-clad thugs and up the spiraling stairs until I’d reached her cell.
And there I found her, pacing back and forth behind bars of cold iron, granite walls rent by her talons, tears upon her cheeks.
“‘Phoebe,’ I breathed.
“She met my eyes then—rage and sorrow and shame all swimming in the gold.
“‘Oh, sweet Mothermoons—’
“‘Get it open,’ I demanded, looking to the keyman nearby. ‘Now!’
“Her face was already crumpling as the keys twisted in the lock, breath hissing through her teeth as I wrenched the door wide. And then she was in my arms, warm and wild and weeping, talons scraping across the breastplate I still wore.
“‘I’m sorry Moons I’m so sorry Gabe she made me she made me do it that fuckin—’
“‘I know,’ I murmured, swaying as I held her close. ‘I know, it’s aright, Phoebe.’
“‘It’s nae aright! She slaved me, Gabriel! I could see it all and do naught to stop it! I felt like I was screaming underwater, just fuckin’ screaming and none could hear, Mountains and Moons when I get my claws in that little cu—’
“‘Maryn’s dead, Phoebe. Dior and I ended her, and freed you likesame.’
“‘Dior. Oh, Moons, is she—’
“‘I’m h-here, Phoebe.’
“The voice was breathless, its owner bent double at the top of the stairs in her bloodstained gown, clutching the stitch in her side. At the sight of her, Phoebe tore herself from my arms and crashed into Dior’s, pushing her face into the girl’s hair as she pleaded.
“‘Flower, forgive me, I couldnae stop meself, I tried, Moons help me—’
“‘It’s aright,’ Dior whispered, holding tight. ‘There’s nothing to forgive.’
“‘I lied to Gabe, I lied to ye! I stole his blade, I steered ye wrong, if nae for me—’
“‘No, don’t do that.’ Dior cupped Phoebe’s cheeks, meeting tear-stung eyes. ‘None of this was your fault, you hear? Maryn deceived every one of us, me most of all. I wanted to believe her, Phoebe. I wanted it to be real. If anyone’s to blame for this mess, it’s me.’
“‘That’s not true, Dior,’ I told her. ‘She used you. She used the good in you. These vipers turn the best of us against ourselves. It’s what they do. It’s what they are.’
“Phoebe lifted one hand toward me, unwilling to be parted from Dior. And stepping to their sides, I caught them up in my arms. Phoebe was fighting sobs, shaking with rage, head hung low as she snarled against my tearstained tabard.
“‘I can still almost feel her in my head. That cursed little worm. Mountains and Moons, I wish I’d been there to watch her die. I hope ye made her scream, Gabe. I pray they both fuckin’ screamed as ye sent them off to hell.’
“Dior met my eyes then. ‘Phoebe…’
“‘Celene is still alive, Phoebe,’ I said. ‘We spared her life.’
“‘What? ’ Golden eyes caught fire as she lifted her head, tail lashing as she spat, ‘No, no, NO, she was party to it all! She shattered Ashdrinker, Gabe, she’d have let y—’
“‘We know what she did, Phoebe. She told Dior all of it.’
“‘Of course she did, that snake would do anything to save her fuckin’ skin!’
“‘She confessed before Maryn died, Phoebe. She’d no reason to say anything, save it was right.’ Dior met the duskdancer’s eyes, shaking her head.
‘Gabe was all for ending her. This was my decision. But trust me, sister. I don’t know why nor what, but I can feel in my gut Celene has some part to play in all this before the end. ’
“‘And that end is here.’ I took a breath, letting the song of those bells fill the silence. ‘Voss is here, Phoebe. He’s brought all hell with him.’
“She refused to meet my eyes, flame-red braids tumbling about her cheeks as she hung her head. But I touched her chin, tried to lift her gaze to mine.
“‘Phoebe—’
“‘She made me her dog, Gabriel. She made me her pawn.’
“‘You’re no pawn, Phoebe á Dúnnsair. You’re a queen.’
“She clenched her jaw, misgiving and guilt swimming in hunter’s eyes. She’d been made a catspaw of the Dead, used to hurt the folk she cared for. To be without blame is not always to be without shame. But truth was, she deserved none of it.
“‘Stand with me,’ I urged. ‘Beside me. Let whatever wrongs we wrought be washed away in the flood we make, Phoebe. We have blood to spill tonight.’
“Phoebe breathed deep, finally meeting my eyes as I spoke those words. Still it swam with hurt, but I saw that golden gaze run to iron then.
“‘Aye, then. To the flood.’
“She stood on tiptoe and kissed me, hot and brief and sharp, blooding my lips with her teeth as we parted, fire in her eyes.
“‘I still don’t love ye, Gabriel de León.’
“‘I don’t love you, too.’
“Inquisitors and soldiers were spilling from the Tower as we descended. Across the city, families were gathering behind locked doors and loved ones embracing farewell, soldiers taking up blades and marching to the walls to the tune of those dreadful bells. Dior’s Unbound awaited below; a hundred-strong cadre clad in mail and tabards trimmed in gold, swords and axes run through with silver held in waiting fists.
As we marched out to greet them, Joaquin winked at Phoebe, nodded to me.
“‘Well, well,’ I said. ‘Joaquin Joaquin Marenn. Still alive, I see.’
“‘Not for lack of trying, Chevalier.’
“The houndboy flashed a smile, hefted a clothbound bundle, and tossed it to Dior. The girl barely managed to catch it, grunting as it struck her chest.
“‘Watch the tits, M. Marenn.’
“‘Tried my best. Couldn’t find them anywhere.’
“‘Fuck you,’ she scoffed.
“‘No time, alas. But as always, I’m flattered by the offer.’
“The charming little bastard winked in a way that put me a little offside, but as Dior unbound the bundle he’d tossed her, I had to grant him some credit.
A good pair of heavy leathers and boots were wrapped within, a hauberk of mail and a long coat of quilted cloth, embroidered with chalices and flames. Joaquin tipped an imaginary hat.
“‘Thought you should at least dress for the occasion. We’ve a war to fight.’
“‘Not just fight, M. Marenn. This is a war we musssst win.’
“All eyes turned to Celene as she stepped from the gloom. She was clad in her red greatcoat, black leathers, her porcelain mask painted in a savage, saw-toothed grin. Phoebe bristled, talons curling, teeth clenched. I couldn’t blame her a jot for her rage—God knows I was still sore-tempted to bury my sister then and there.
“‘Celene’s right,’ Dior said, cutting the stays on her corset. ‘If Voss takes Augustin, that’s the game. No matter what misgivings lie between us, we have to set them aside. Every man, woman, and child in this city depends on us.’
“‘Or, you may simply end me right here, flesssshwitch.’
“Phoebe glared at Celene, eyes burning.
“‘If that isss your wish,’ my sister said, ‘I understand. I have wronged you, Phoebe á Dúnnsair. And I am sssorry for it. But if blood demands blood, we’ll not ssstop you.’
“Celene sank slowly to her knees, like a prisoner at the headsman’s block.
Stillness fell, despite the rising chaos around us, my heart quickening as Phoebe stalked toward my sister.
Dior was halfway out of her dress, pausing as Celene unbuttoned her collar, parting that blood-red velvet to reveal the marble of her chest beneath.
Phoebe’s eyes were locked on the place my sister’s heart resided, the talons on her right hand unfurled and glittering.
She moved with a predator’s grace, tail switching back and forth, breath hissing as she closed in.
Celene only lifted her chin, eyes slipping closed.
“Waiting.
“I knew not how to feel. Celene’s betrayal had almost cost us everything. But who was I to begrudge her another chance? When Dior had granted me the same?
“My heart fell still as Phoebe reached out, lifting Celene’s mask away.
I could see the ravages of Laure Voss’s claws beneath, that flesh peeled off the face I knew so well.
Her wounds were not as bad as they’d been before she’d consumed Aléne, but still grim to behold.
I thought about the hurts the Voss had dealt us both. Wondering if we’d ever heal.
“Celene opened her eyes, gazing up at her executioner. Snows fell gentle between them, thunder holding its breath, Dior gasping as Phoebe raised gleaming black talons.
“‘No, d—’
“Phoebe’s hand came down like lightning—not a deathblow, but a slap, heavy and savage. Blood sprayed, the crack of flesh ringing louder than crashing clouds and marching boots, the bellowed orders to battle, the doom of our time.
“‘They come! The Forever King is come!’
“‘We’ve a war to win,’ Phoebe snarled.
“And jaw set, she marched toward the walls.”