Chapter 35 Xade
XADE
Rage knots in my chest, binding tighter until I feel like I'm about to be riven apart. Georgina did more than punish my clarissima stella. She disfigured her with a permanent reminder of her so-called disobedience.
Georgina.
The thought of Reverend Mother's name is enough to make my fingers punch into the meaty part of my palms as I bolt across the convent.
I pass empty corridors and through the windy courtyard, beelining to the cathedral.
I ignore the holy water font and continue to the door opposite the entrance to the rectory, blazing past the signs prohibiting entry to sanctified grounds.
Then I begin the spiral descent into the crypt below the cathedral.
At the foot of the stone stairwell, I cross through a threshold encased on all sides by iron crosses woven together in a metal garland and pass the oxidized sepulchral marker designating the entrance to the crypt. The marker reads:
Anno Domini, 1862, erectae sunt hae Sanctitates pro aeterna requie pro pauperibus, debilibus, invitis animabus. Sancta Margarita de Castello custodiat eos in vita aeterna.
It identifies the final resting place of hundreds of souls left here after a cholera outbreak decimated the mainland in the early nineteenth century.
Hysteria spread in the wake of God's scourge.
The dead outnumbered the living. There were too many bodies to bury, so the survivors carted the poor bastards to the island and left their carcasses to weather the elements.
For years, the corpses remained here until the church consecrated the grounds and called upon Saint Margaret of Castello, the patron saint of the poor, disabled, and unwanted, to watch over the souls of the dead.
Knowing the history of the crypt, though, doesn't make me hate it any less down here.
Deep below the earth, the air is stale, cold, and clotted with the stench of decay.
I don't know how Ares stands it among the bleached bones.
Shadows fill the corridors, writhing with the gas flames of the old lanterns bolted to the walls.
The dizzying turns never end until, finally, I hear something.
Voices—muffled but still unmistakable.
I pass through a set of copper-green oxidized gates and follow the curved masonry wall until the voices become clearer.
Rounding the corner, I see them. Georgina stands near the far wall, her hands folded in front of her.
Beside her is Ezra's shadow—Ares—and next to Ares, Ezra leans a shoulder against the wall.
My gaze snaps to Georgina as I stalk forward. She's calm and emotionless. No sign of remorse. No sign of guilt. No sign of anything that makes her human. My mind detonates with memories of the scars disfiguring Avalynne's flesh in angry, tumid slashes.
My restraint breaks. Before I know it, I'm moving toward her. Georgina looks up mid-word, her calm demeanor slipping, and in an instant, I'm in front of her, reaching for her throat. I nearly catch her before Ares ducks between us, blocking me.
"Back away, Thatcher." His words are laced with quiet menace.
"Oh, look," I sneer. "Ezra's pet. Go to your master, and get out of my fucking way, Ares!"
He doesn't move. Instead, he smirks, and that slow, deliberate curve of his lips fuels the boil in my blood. There's the promise of violence in his stare.
I take a step forward, ready to hit him, but a familiar voice carves through the fog of my anger.
"Xade? What's going on?"
My gaze shoots to the corner of the room where Ezra stands, his lips thinned into a colorless line.
"Keep your damned dog on her chain," I snarl.
He blinks at me. "What's wrong? What happened?"
I scoff. "Like you don't know."
"I assure you I don't."
I can't help it. I laugh. "That's rich. Your bitch keeping you in the dark?"
"Apologize," Ares hisses, "before I slit your pretty throat."
I cock my head at him. "If your precious Reverend Mother acts like an animal, then I will call her one."
I eye the old witch, stern-faced and standing behind him, as Ares starts forward, ready to throw a punch. Ezra raises a hand, and, predictably, his dog stops with a huff.
I turn to my old friend, but cock my head toward Ares. "Have him trained well, don't you?"
"Don't do that." Ezra frowns, stepping closer. "Don't push me away. We've known each other far too long for …"
"Don't push you away?" I shout at him. "You abducted my student for a week and refused to answer me about her whereabouts! Then you have the audacity to accuse me of pushing you away!"
Ezra falters in his stride. "We just arrived, Xade. I haven't had my phone. I wasn't … Did you say your student was abducted?"
His brows nearly meet his hairline before his gaze locks on Georgina.
"What did you do?" he demands.
"She flogged Avalynne," I answer for her, each word dripping with contempt.
Ezra's jaw slackens in horror, and even his dog looks stunned into silence as Ezra faces Georgina.
"Is it true?" Ezra's words plead for a denial.
"The girl is a risk …" she begins.
"What did you do?!" he nearly wails, hurrying until he's almost toe-to-toe with Reverend Mother.
She straightens her spine. "As matriarch of this convent …"
"I told you to leave her be!" Spittle flies across her face with Ezra's words.
He did?
Georgina's gaze thins into a weary slant. "The girl's loyalties lie elsewhere, Father Damienne. She will tell her grandfather everything. Saint Margaret's will be shut down, and she will have sentenced thousands to a fate worse than death!"
Ares, to my surprise, speaks the words I want to shout, though he doesn't look at Georgina when he says them. His attention is fixed on his knife, balanced by the handle on one fingertip.
"Keeping the girl in the dark and castigating her are not the same, Mother.
Cruelty doesn't serve the cause." He flips the knife over-end, shutting the blade, and catching it between his fingers in the span of a blink.
To my surprise, his murderous focus seems directed squarely at Georgina for the time being.
The old woman's lips contort in a caustic smile. "What was I supposed to do? She saw you, Ares! I cannot abide it going unpunished!"
"She what?!" Ezra's eyes nearly fall out of his head.
Ares pockets his knife and bares his teeth with his snarled words. "She's seen me before, Georgina. We met in the cloister. You shouldn't have touched the girl!"
What the fuck.
I have a thousand questions, and all of them involve spilling his blood.
Georgina howls like a wounded animal.
"What the hell are you thinking, Ares?!" Ezra shouts, his words slamming into the crypt's stone walls and rebounding back in echoes.
"I told you," Ares says, tipping his chin, "I'm done living in the shadows. What's the girl going to do? Tell her grandfather she saw the mythical devil of Saint Margaret's?" He scoffs. "He wouldn't believe her even if she did!"
Georgina howls even louder.
"It's not just about Avalynne saying something! Think of the nuns! Or have you so easily forgotten that a quarter of our sisters are canonical placements direct from the Abbess herself?"
Ares pales and clenches his fists.
"If the Abbess finds out, if one of the nuns talks, we are done for!
" Ezra continues with a hiss. "It's bad enough we have to deal with the rumors after your last tantrum!
The Devil of Saint Margaret's," he scoffs bitterly, shaking his head.
"It never would have been a myth at all had you just listened! "
"I have listened to you for over a decade!" Ares roars, his hands unclenching as they barrel toward each other and face off.
They've lost the plot. I put an end to this shit, interrupting all of them.
"Avalynne will say nothing." I snap before facing Georgina, who stops her howling with a sniffle.
"Congratulations! You accomplished your goal, but not by your own atrocities, but because I showed Avalynne proof of how little her grandfather cares for her.
She knows telling him would be futile." Fury vibrates beneath my skin, shaking my next words.
"Ezra needs you above ground, Georgina, not me.
Know that if not for him, I would've already delivered you to the Maker you claim to serve.
Touch Avalynne again, and I will. Am I understood? "
Georgina sneers, and Ezra curses, his gaze darting between Georgina and me.
Light from the lanterns flickers across his face, reflecting fire across his brown eyes and underlining his cheekbones in shadow.
He sucks his teeth and, after a moment, clucks his tongue with a grimace.
Still, he says nothing as he closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose.
He appears to have met his breaking point. That makes two of us.
After a long minute and with a slow exhale, he levels his gaze at me and steps closer.
"How is my …" He swallows hard. "How is Avalynne?"
"She will live. I am caring for her."
Relief flashes across his face before he takes another cautious step toward me.
"We are so close, Xade," he tells me. "Just give me a little longer."
My jaw tightens. "I will not lie to Avalynne."
"Okay," he agrees, his hands finding either side of my shoulders. He leans in and murmurs the words to me. "Don't lie, but you don't have to tell her every hard truth. Think of Jonathan."
He's the only one in this room who can say my brother's name without risking my wrath. He tips his head to meet my downcast gaze as his fingers lightly squeeze my shoulders. Looking at him, the heaviness behind my ribs abates a little.
"Okay." I break the contact and step away, turning to Georgina.
My next words are pure ice. "Since you seem to have abruptly developed a hearing impairment, let me be crystal clear.
If you so much as lift a finger toward Avalynne again, there won't be anything left for you to save.
I swear on my life I will torch this entire place to the goddamned ground, and I'll gladly watch it burn.
I don't give a fuck what you tell her grandfather or how you appease him, but Avalynne will not be harmed.
You will treat her like a human. You will give her suitable accommodations on the second floor, near me, not in the basement.
You will afford her both privacy and respect. Am I understood?"
"You're understood," Ezra answers for her.
I shake my head and keep my gaze on Reverend Mother Graves. "I need to hear it from her."
"Agreed," she says finally.
Without another word, I turn on my heel and leave the crypt. I don't try to reach for a word to numb my fury. I couldn't find one if I tried. Tonight, rage incinerates every thought I have.