Chapter 30 Csilla
Csilla
Embarrassment yanked her hand away from Mihály.
‘Please stand up,’ she said, hand fluttering as the light faded.
She wanted Ilan to tell her what he thought, like he always did, not this worshipful silence as he knelt, eyes turned down from her.
She wanted answers, and his reaction seemed to mean he didn’t have any.
The only thing reflected in his gaze was a shocked awe and yearning.
He finally stood, looking between them, eyes wide and lips parted.
‘What was that?’ Then, softer: ‘What did the two of you do?’
Csilla swallowed. There couldn’t be any more stalling.
‘We tried the ritual to give me Evie’s soul.’ Her mouth was sour at the memory of lying against Mihály and bleeding under the stars. ‘But it didn’t work.’
And she had to tell them why. Csilla took both Mihály’s hands in hers, pressing her palms around his fingers as they glowed in silver comfort.
Devastation was a consequence of the hopeful human condition.
And she could be gentle, though he hadn’t been gentle with her.
Perhaps the numb shock of her grief would be a blessing at the moment.
‘It didn’t work because that wasn’t her. She’s gone.’
That expression . . . the kind, bemused look he’d given her the first moment they’d met, but more genuine now. She squeezed tighter, heart cracking at his smile, and dropped her gaze.
‘You were tricked.’ She braced herself for the denial and anger to come, like readying for the first thundercrack of a storm. ‘We both were.’
He clucked his tongue with a pitying look and Csilla’s blood rose. She was being better to him than he deserved. This was a moment she should be taking for herself, and he would mock her for it?
‘Just because I failed in a ritual . . .’
‘No.’ Csilla’s skin crawled, pieces of the evening coming back. The softness of her bed. The weight of the knife. ‘Do you even know what it was you were doing? Or did you just take Tamas’s word for it?’
‘I . . .’ He gulped air, words lost as he jerked away.
‘Think.’ Her head pounded. Blood and magic.
They’d used for themselves what the killer was using now.
And the only person they had claiming it was holy was the grief-stricken boy who’d have done anything to get his soulmate back.
‘Who was it who told you how to do it? Who knew about the blood and the magic, about Evie. About your holiness and how it could blind us?’
Mihály grabbed her wrist. Light flared, but the shadows it cast were sinister. Ilan leaped forward, but Csilla raised a hand to stop him. She had to see this through.
‘It was a miracle. You don’t question miracles. And I’m blessed.’
‘I’ve seen miracles.’ Her voice choked. ‘You’re just a man. Whatever you and Tamas did didn’t save her, and it may have damned us all.’
‘You’re mistaken . . .’ He tensed like a wild creature newly caged. But she couldn’t let him edge away, no matter what a slippery thing he was.
‘The mistake was what you did. They used you, you’re not to blame, but think.’
He sank down onto the steps and put his head in his hands. Was he praying?
Crying.
‘He brought me here because I needed looking after,’ he whispered into his hands. ‘That’s what he told me.’
A part of her wanted to scream at him over the audacity of his acting as if he were the only person here grieving. ágnes’s body was next to them and not yet cold.
But that wasn’t a pain she wished on anyone else.
‘He used you to hold something evil. You put it in me.’
Mihály’s laugh into his palms was wormwood bitter. ‘Well, it’s all gone now, isn’t it?’
If she couldn’t be Evie, did he really not care at all? A helpless laugh rose in Csilla’s throat. ‘It happened before, Mihály. I killed Madame Varga. And I brought her back. And you killed the others. You were never ill. You were possessed.’
‘But I—’
‘Don’t remember? Or remember doing other things? I was sure I was in bed. And I think if I hadn’t come to, that thing in me would have made sure I knew nothing about it.’ She dragged her hand across her chest, as if she could rake out the memories of darkness.
‘And you say it’s gone?’ Ilan shook his head. ‘Did you see a mark? Demons are pure corruption. They can’t stay in form long and they leave traces when they’re banished.’
He was dissecting her with his eyes now. All soft worship was gone, leaving only steel, and she was glad for it.
Csilla ran a hand over her arm. ‘There wasn’t a mark . . .’
Ilan shook his head, cutting her off. ‘So it found another host.’
Another host. She’d damned someone else, adding to her pile of guilty sins.
Mihály let out a long breath. ‘Look. The Seal is ruined. There isn’t going to be a Church for you to join, Evie’s gone, so fuck it all. Let’s just leave. Whatever you are, we will figure it out later. It’s not safe here.’
There wasn’t anywhere safe, not anymore. Perhaps they could find somewhere to hide from Shadow, but it wouldn’t save them. Running would be a disgrace.
‘You should earn that blessing you were born with.’ The words came from somewhere deep and boiling. ‘Even if you don’t care about me, you should care about the people who put their faith in you. They’re still here.’
This time, when Mihály met her eyes, there was no endearment.
Fine. Let him resent her for who she was. Better than being loved for the ghost she wasn’t.
‘I do ca—’
She put her fingers over his lips, silencing him with pressure and light.
‘I don’t want to hear another lie out of your mouth. You owe me more than that.’
He exhaled against her hand, bowing his head. ‘Then what would you have me do? Find Tamas, bring him here to be punished?’
‘And us as well, I suppose.’
She would stay here as everything horrible and miraculous faded into a dull and sunken quiet. Even if no one else knew, she had the memory of the knife in her hands and the sick knowledge that when asked if she would accept darkness, she’d said yes. Why she’d said yes didn’t matter.
‘I could have stopped it, too. I just wanted to believe you.’
She met Mihály’s gaze, a new quiet on his face. Resignation, without pretension or defence.
‘Csilla.’ Mihály reached out to graze her cheek, silver on his fingertips. ‘All my life, people – including you – have offered me very undeserved grace. Try extending it to yourself.’
She took a deep breath and gave the smallest nod. ágnes would have wanted that, too.
‘Go get Tamas.’
Mihály’s smile went grim. ‘We don’t have to waste time dragging him here. I’ve killed before.’ The paleness in his face undercut the words.
‘No!’ Csilla shook her head, grabbing his sleeve. ‘I don’t care what you think about your divinity, you’re not staining yourself.’
Ilan made a hmm of agreement, a sharp light in his eyes. ‘He can’t talk if he’s dead. But go fast. If this was all they were after, he’ll likely have run.’
‘Ilan, you’ll keep her somewhere, won’t you?’ Mihály said. ‘At least now we don’t have to worry about anyone getting killed on the streets.’
It was a poor attempt at levity, but she let him get away with it, and Ilan hummed an affirmation.
Csilla sagged in relief, suddenly desperate for quiet, to sit with ágnes in the dark. This was where they’d found her at the beginning of her life. It was right she be in the same spot to see the woman through the end, no matter how it hurt.
Her tears finally fell, as steady as a shower of blessed gold.