Chapter 9
SILAS
"Are you alright, Witchling?"
"I will soon settle."
The crows follow our steps from above as we walk, my Bonded lost in the labyrinth of her mind.
The last offering weighs on her, the deeply seated betrayal from one woman to another enough to sour her feast. My thumb strokes firmly over the back of her hand and as she leads, I follow.
I give her the space to traverse her thoughts, content to share air with her, to feel the spread of her power lapping over my skin.
I shall never tire of this feeling.
Everything around us looks nearly the same as last I was here, the shadowed leaves in gnarled trees, but so much time has passed and I yearn to know more of what I might have missed.
We are nearly to the village when Mercy retreats from the recess of her mind and joins me in the moment, the bottom of her skirts kissing over the tops of her bare feet with every step. Her tiny fingers squeeze between mine.
"Tell me what knocks around that gourd of yours."
"Funny," I roll my eyes as she teases. We pass a roll of small farmhouses, windows darkened, but I feel exposed out in the open. "Tell me, why are we trotting into town, instead of having the last offering come to your altar?"
"Because the last makes a mockery of his faith, then heinously hides behind it as he destroys others."
The vitriol in her voice is deep, slicing. I raise an eyebrow, an invitation to hear more.
"He is a vile pretender, Silas. The worst kind of predator," she sucks in a sharp breath, and though the word remains unspoken, I know that the corruption of innocence is the only thing that reduces her to speechlessness.
"I taste him strongest. Even at your burning, with so many gathered around, through the haze of lust and greed and gluttony and abuse, his was.
.." she shudders, and I pull her body tight against mine, tucking her beneath my arm.
Our fingers remain entwined, dangling over her shoulder.
"Would you like us to reap the town? Wash it clean?" I offer, and I mean it. Corruption is deep and permeating. Once rooted in a place with systems built around it, razing down to the foundation is sometimes the only way to give humanity a chance to try again. To be better.
"No, not yet. There are many good folk left in this place, but they are, me thinks, lacking the strength to stand up, or the knowledge of how to do so.
Who believe in the teachings of their God, who live in ministry of him and not the Church.
But there are others who exploit the word to amass power.
To subjugate," she muses thoughtfully, her voice so full of hope even after thousands of turns of experience to prove her wrong.
She still believes there is good in them—has enough faith for both of us.
"With the Reverend gone, will they not send another in his stead?"
Mercy's lips quirk to the side as she sighs, "I do not believe they will.
There is another, an underling in the Clergy.
He is different—kind. I have tasted his sins, and they are comically banal.
He is a true pillar of the teachings of his faith.
It is my hope that under his guidance, the flock will correct course. Otherwise..."
Her voice trails off, eyebrows lifting.
"We will come back," I finish.
"Yes." Power pulses from her, punctuating the force of her conviction, and the spike causes my skin to ripple. I pull her to a stop, spin our bodies until we are face to face. She gazes up at me, so stunning it rips a crater through my chest.
"I am sorry, truly. That I left you that night.
I broke my vow to protect you these last turns, and for that, I will repent.
" I need to apologize, and so I do. Her hair flows around her, unkept and wild as the day I saw her first, across a snowy battlefield when the world was new.
Two Kindred of opposite Clan, two Sin Eaters in a world that did not yet understand.
"I am well. All is well. Twas I who sent you along, Silas. Alone. If anything, this only proves we are better together, stronger side by side," she swears, her voice a melody that soothes.
"I heard your voice in the dark. There was pain and there was fire, then nothing.
Nothingness, but your voice." I swallow, bring our entwined hands to my lips and press a kiss to the back of her hand.
"I could not understand your words, through the Veil of the realms, but I could hear that hum.
The tenor." Mercy smiles, and it is another arrow strike to my chest.
"I walked the ground you burned on, every day.
I spoke to you, not knowing if you could hear.
If you were even there. Just in case, I needed you to hold on and not slip between.
After I found your talisman, I searched for Molly.
The youngling," she adds, pulling me along the path once more, "I was devastated.
Wanted to burn them all. Without you...I was out of my mind.
But Molly needed me, and I could not leave her adrift.
I found her in that same tree, and we ran, as best she could.
Came across a small, abandoned cottage on the back part of the land belonging to Benjamin Hawthorne.
I had no idea how to get you back, if it was even a possibility, but Molly helped.
Together, we cobbled together a little of her Cast, a little of mine and we needed that land so I set my sights on the man who voted to condemn you. "
I struggle to control my breathing, seeing it all unfold as she speaks it into the night. "Together, Molly and I wove over his land, his household, and once I secured my station, we had him publicly removed from the playing field."
"How?"
She smirks. Touches her finger to my temple.
I see the same man I tore apart as my first offering screaming slurred damnations at several farm hands get kicked in the chest by a horse under the witness of several eyes as Mercy watches on with a feigned horror.
Her touch relents, and we both double over in fits of laughter.
"Once that was done, I wove heavily over his mind, letting the spiders do their job so we could work unobstructed."
"You married him for me. I appreciate your sacrifice," I blow her a kiss that she returns with a shove of her body against mine.
"In the memories I planted, it was the best sex of his life," she defends and it sends us into another fit of giggles.
We fall into an easy silence as Mercy guides us down a left fork in the road.
In the distance, I can make out the dark shadows of buildings nestled in the tiny village. A thought strikes me.
"So, to be clear, we are risking exposure in broad moonlight, traveling in blood-soaked clothes for anyone peeping past curtains to witness, because you wish to make a dramatic point?"
"Essentially," she shrugs.
"Viscous, Witchling. I adore it."